Here We Go Again
by silverskies87
Summary: Two years have passed since Seishun Gakuen conquered the Nationals. Two years have passed since Echizen Ryoma left to conquer the Grand Slams. Now, the Prince returns and Seishun Kokou is ready to take Japan by storm once more. Thrill Pair.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Me no own! I do not and do not claim to own Prince of Tennis, Fila, Yonex, or any other companies that I mention. I am doing this because I'm bored, not for profit.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Prologue: Once More

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><p>~July 2011. New York City, USA~<p>

"I got bored."

The words resonated through the auditorium, to be broadcast to televisions and radios all over the world. It was inconceivable. Ryoma Echizen, the Prince of Tennis, the Samurai Junior, the rookie from the land of sakura who had brought professionals twice his age to their knees, was calmly stating that he was leaving the Pro Circuit for "a while."

He had appeared in August 2008 (1), defeating Lleyton Hewitt in the US Open finals. For the next few months, he had lain low, training and participating in relatively small-time tournaments around the world. However, when January rolled around, he appeared again, boldly announcing that he would take a Calendar Grand Slam (2) on his first try. That same month, the Australian Open fell to him. The world could only watch in awe as the teenager made good of his words, becoming the youngest person to ever win all four of the world's major tennis tournaments.

Throughout that thrilling year, he was rarely seen relaxing, or in public. He was almost always training or trying to keep up on his studies. When asked what drove him so hard at such a young age, he simply smirked and replied, "I'm keeping a promise." This only sparked more questions, but all were haughtily ignored. He was, after all, a prince.

Needless to say, the whole world knew the Prince of Tennis' face. That only made his recent announcement all the more confusing. A wildly popular young tennis player appears, shatters anyone and everyone's low expectations of him, then announces that he will soon disappear, much like his father.

As questions from the press erupted, the center (and cause) of all the chaos calmly walked off stage. He waved off the inquisition, simply stating, "Don't worry, I'll be back in a month and a half for my Grand Slam."

With that, Samurai Junior took his leave.

~X~

On the other side of the world, the dark and empty halls of Seishun Kokou (3) were completely empty. The news from a ground-shaking press conference in New York City had yet to reach Tokyo, and all the students slept soundly in their dorms (3.5). In the pale, ghostly moonlight streaming through a window, trophies, awards, and pictures gleamed.

Seishun Kokou was proud of their tennis team, and they had good reason to be. After their sister school's triumph at the Junior High Nationals two years ago, both schools had an influx of registrations for their clubs. On top of this, seven of the Regulars from that miraculous team were now at their school. In 2009, the High school took second place at Nationals, their momentum only stopped by the Emperors of Rikkaidai. An almost exact repeat occurred the year after. Now, though, the stage was set. All of the teams were once again assembled and prepared to fight. The new lineups almost mirrored those of two years ago, and it was time for the fierce battle of wills to ensue once more.

~X~

~July 2011. Narita International Airport~

"Heh… It's too hot…"

Amidst the crowds outside Narita Airport, a boy stood by the road, hiding his face with a white Fila hat and sunglasses. He wore black skinny jeans, Fila tennis shoes, and a silver hoodie with a red t-shirt underneath. Over his shoulder, a Yonex tennis bag dangled.

A soft, lazy meow came from a cat carrier in his hand. "You think so too, huh Karupin? Damn oyaji better be here soon…"

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><p><strong>Well, there's a quick prologue for ya. Actual chapters are more than three times this length. This is my first actual story, so tell me how I did. Personally, I'm really excited to write this. I really like the two years later fics, so I wanted to try my hand at one.<strong>

**I've pretty much decided on slight Thrill Pair, but if you'll die if it isn't something else, **_**REVIEW**_** or PM me. Just keep in mind that romance will play a small part (unless, again, you're going to die if I don't change that).**

**(1) I'm pretty sure that's when Prince of Tennis is, and if it isn't, then deal with it. It isn't all that relevant to the plot.**

**(2) A Grand Slam (in tennis) is winning the Australian Open, French Open, Wimbledon, and American Open. A Calendar Grand Slam is winning them all consecutively in one calendar year. **

**PS- As of his press conference, Ryoma has won two of each tournament. He doesn't have two Calendar Grand Slams, though, as his first US Open was the one in the canon anime. Any questions (I know that was probably confusing as hell), just PM me or **_**REVIEW**_** and I'll get back to you. **

**(3) Seigaku's sister high school [(3.5) also a boarding school] because I say it is. I'm also going to refer to it as Seishun from now on, I don't feel like always adding the "Kokou"**


	2. So Now

**Disclaimer: See prologue**

**Note: 1) Updates will be weekly from now on, this is early because of the prologue's length or lack thereof.**

**2) When someone's speaking in English (or any language other than Japanese; I will clarify which), I will put it in bold. Japanese will be normal, and long stretches of italics will be flashbacks. This will apply in all chapters**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter One: So Now...

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><p>Upon his arrival at the tennis courts on the day of the Tokyo District Finals, the former captain of the Seigaku tennis club found… even more chaos than usual.<p>

The nets were splayed halfway to their destination, some still rolled up. Ball carts were nowhere in sight, as though they had been abandoned along with the nets. All of the first years were gathered around Horio, who was being as loud as ever. The boy was going on about how he "heard it on the news this morning. It didn't surprise me, because with my five years of tennis experience, I could tell that he wouldn't be able to take the pressure much longer." The walking megaphone held a laptop that was running through a clip from the morning news.

So the first years had been distracted from their morning setup by _that_. It must have been a scrap of new gossip Horio had managed to come up with.

Several of the second and third years were either screaming in disgust or already passed out on the ground, foaming at the mouth. He assumed that the viscous, color-shifting liquid pooling around them was the cause, though Inui was nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile, those that were left standing were split into various groups, talking (read: shouting) about something or other. Half of the Regulars were nowhere to be found, and those that _were_ on the courts were_ not helping._

Fuji stood in a secluded corner of the courts, chuckling quietly and snapping pictures of the scene. He almost seemed to be egging everyone on. Though however irresponsible this was, it wasn't nearly as bad as -

"Unyaaaaaaah! Oooiiishiiiiiiiii! What are we going to do!" Kikumaru, at that moment, was making at least twenty copies of himself. Said copies were currently running, flipping, glomping, bouncing and making general pandemonium all across the courts.

As the poor mother hen of Seishun tried to calm down his doubles partner(s?), Tezuka stepped onto the clay, emitting an aura that demanded answers and laps from the entire club, if only he could still assign them.

The third year regular and current vice-captain, Aoiyama Noburu was the only one who seemed to know what was going on _and_ wasn't sent into a state of panic by it.

Walking over to his unfortunate classmate, and bringing his killing intent with him, he demanded answers. "Aoiyama-fukubuchou (1), what in the world is going on, and why is no one doing anything about it?"

"T-Tezuka! We didn't know you were here yet!" The boy (he could not be considered a man) had a round face, and a belly to match. He had no particular skills in tennis, was a coward, and Tezuka honestly couldn't fathom how and why he was even in the club, much less the Regulars.

"That much was clear. Now, _why_ is nobody practicing, _what _are the first years doing, and why on _Earth_ are there twenty Kikumarus?" the ex-captain was practically spitting fire, much to Aoiyama's dismay.

Suddenly, the portly boy was saved by another outburst on Kikumaru numbers two, seven, and eighteen's part. "Ochibi! Why? What happened, nya (2)?"

At the mention of their little rookie, all of Tezuka's attention snapped to the acrobat. "Kikumaru Eiji! I want you here, right now! Only _one_ of you!"

"Ah! Tezuka!" The doppelgangers disappeared, leaving a sole Kikumaru to run up to the angry teen, Oishi in tow. "Did you hear? No one knows what's going on! I've got no idea what he was thinking, nya!"

"Kikumaru, I need to know what you're talking about first. What has this got to do with Echizen?"

"Saa… Worried, are we?" Seeing an end to the anarchy, the genius of Seishun had wandered over to his friend.

"Fuji." The brunet greeted, the two syllables also carrying the threatening demand for information.

"Huhuhuhu…Well, today on the morning news, a rather shocking press conference aired. It seems little Ryoma-chan grew tired of the big leagues. I believe his words were, 'I'll be leaving the professional tennis scene for a while. Why? Hmm… I got bored.'"

…

"Everyone, 100 laps!"

~X~

"Achoo!" Echizen Ryoma paused in tying his shoelaces to rub his nose. Apparently someone was talking about him. All things considered, it was to be expected, after that "stunt," as his manager had called the press conference.

_Flashback_

"_**Ryoma Echizen, what were you thinking? What was that crazy stunt at the press conference**__?" The angry voice of Matthew Davis grated on his ears through the phone._

"_**I thought I made that abundantly clear at that media circus earlier, Mr. Davis.**__" The young man's nonchalant voice replied._

"_**Well you didn't! All that that 'media circus' accomplished was throwing the world into chaos! Not that you care, you're probably enjoying it! You are by far the most difficult-**__"_

_Finally deciding that he'd had enough of the man's nagging, Ryoma decided to cut the conversation short. _

_He looked around, sharp eyes attempting to look through the crowded train station for a cab to take him to the airport. He continued, ignoring the flustered Americans protests. "__**I've beaten everyone there is to beat, and just on time, too. I've got a promise to keep and some new opponents to make back in Japan."**_

_With that final cryptic reply, the young star summarily hung up. Walking up to one of the many yellow taxis that littered American cities, he handed the driver a small wad of bills. "__**I need to go to JFK airport.**__"_

_Flashback End_

Tugging one final time on his shoelaces, Ryoma stood, slinging his tennis bag over one shoulder. "Kaa-san, I'm leaving!" he called to the quiet house.

"Alright, take care! Are you sure you know the way?" came the muffled response.

"Yeah. Oyaji said it's just a block from the middle school. Ja ne." He exited the temple, which had honestly not changed in two years, and entered the familiar street with soft, graceful footsteps.

As he began the trek to his school – starting tomorrow, that is – he looked around lazily. The same houses lay beyond the sidewalk, with lawns slightly browned due to the thrice-damned Japanese summer heat. The cherry trees lining the street had long since traded their blossoms for green leaves, for which he was grateful, as their shade provided a brief respite from the sun.

He rounded the corner, remembering the many times Momo-senpai had nearly killed the both of them at this exact spot, pedaling at breakneck speed so as not to be late for morning practice. A soft snort sounded from the teen, breaking the heady silence. Yes, he was most definitely going the right way.

Just then, a gentle breeze ruffled his dark-emerald locks free of the light blue sleeveless shirt he was wearing, where they had gotten stuck while he got dressed. As irritating it was to have his hair (which he had let grow until some strands were almost to the tips of his shoulder blades) blowing around his face, he didn't dare pull it into the "samurai ponytail" (as dubbed by the media)(3).

Though they were admittedly few, he had taken measures to retain his anonymity. He sported a color he usually couldn't be caught dead in, reflective sunglasses, and a black cap. Pulling his hair back in the style used in tournaments (the closest thing to a photo op the media would ever get) was pushing his luck too much. He was likely to be discovered as is, with today's particular destination.

Sighing in resignation, he continued to walk, both thanking and cursing the fact that only his family and manager knew he was home.

~X~

The final bell rang, and the sound of footsteps and idle chatter filled the halls of Seishun. It was the end of the week, and students were now either headed to their respective clubs or dorms.

At afternoon practice, the tennis club was in no better shape than this morning. If anything, it was worse. While, no, not much could hold a candle to twenty hyperactive cat-boys inadvertently putting on an aerial show, there was the Tezuka Factor to be thought of. The Tezuka Factor was simple; it stated that any space within 100 yards of Tezuka Kunimitsu would be 75% more disciplined. Tezuka Kunimitsu was _not_ within 100 yards of the tennis courts, he was off at the Tokyo District finals, and as such, chaos reigned back at Seishun.

"Oi, freshmen!" A harsh, deep voice rang out across the courts. The source, as the terrified freshmen trio soon learned, was a tall second year with dark skin and bleached hair pulled into several cornrows (4).

"K-Kazuya-senpai!" The three stuttered, having flashbacks to their first year of middle school. This, however, was even worse than getting conned by Arai. Now, there was no chance of a Regular showing up to save them, and this particular man looked like he wasn't above inflicting physical damage. As if that wasn't enough, his tennis style seemed to have been inspired by a one Kirihara Akaya. "_Do with that what you will,_" a vindictive third year had once snickered at them.

Seeming to be scornful, yet goaded on by their cowardly response, Kazuya began to approach their corner. "Just because the Regulars are away at Districts doesn't mean-"

"Ne~"

All heads snapped to the courts entrance, where a lone figure stood. The newcomer wore a sleeveless blue shirt that exposed their pale, well-toned arms. Black and silver wrist weights could be seen, matching the black, straight-legged jeans with white stitches. Black hair that gleamed green in the sunlight drifted lazily around thin shoulders. Try as they might, the tennis club members couldn't discern the person's eyes, hidden behind tinted sunglasses as they were, but the half of the face not hidden in shadows was pale, feline, and beautiful.

"Ne~" A drawling, slightly singsong voice that could've been either alto or tenor (5) snapped the students out of their assessment. "This is the Seishun Kokou tennis club, right?"

Blinking a few times, and sounding dumbstruck, Kazuya spoke up. "Y-yes, it is. Did you hear all about our greatness and want to come check it out?"

The dark-haired stranger seemed to find that highly amusing for some reason. "More or less… Do you play well?"

"Heh. As a matter of fact, Miss-" The 'girl' choked. "I am the closest to making it among the Regulars. They're all away though, so why don't we have some fun?"

The girl was now visibly twitching, jaw clenched and fists balled up. "First, I want a match. You can set the terms." Only the freshmen could see that the young woman was trying to keep from spouting obscenities at their senpai.

"Oh, you play? You were probably inspired by us, too. That's just too cute." Kazuya was grinning lecherously at the other teen now. "How about this, if I win, you go on a date with me." How original.

"I don't think you really want that, but whatever, your choice." The girl set her bag down, reaching inside and emerging with a red racquet in hand. "Which?" She asked, standing and putting the racquet on end in one fluid motion.

"It doesn't matter, you can serve, but aren't you going to change into a cute little tennis skirt first?"

"K-Kazuya-senpai…" Only the freshmen could see that the knuckles on the girl's hand were white from trying to throttle her racquet.

"If you would please stop your flirting and focus on the match, Kazuya-san." The girl already stood on the base line, in a serving stance.

"Don't worry honey, I'm coming. Oi, don't you think your arms are too buff for a chick? Girls should stay in the kitch-" That was about the time that a tennis ball slammed into his jaw at 200 kilometers per hour, effectively shutting him up.

"15-love."

~X~

Not ten minutes later, Echizen Ryoma languidly walked off the courts, leaving Kazuya sprawled on the ground covered in sweat.

"Che. I hope senpai-tachi are better than _that_ bastard. Oi, you. Where's the main office?" A stunned Katsuo pointed, not even taking his eyes off the scene.

"Th-that way, then up the stairs to the left…"

"Ah. Thanks."

He walked through the deserted halls, wondering why the Regulars were all away. They could be at a tournament… Turning a corner, he spotted a sign protruding into the hallway. _Main Office_.

He opened the door and stepped inside. "Excuse me," he said, addressing the young woman behind a counter littered with flyers and calendars.

"Yes, Miss, what can I do for you?" Ryoma twitched. That was twice in one day that he was mistaken for a girl. Was he _that_ bad?

"Actually, I'm a boy," he deadpanned. A blush, then look of recognition appeared on her face as he removed his sunglasses to reveal golden, cat-like eyes.

"E-Echizen Ryoma!"

"Yes. My oyaji told me that I needed to speak to someone in the main office to register here." He hoped he hadn't fried her brain, but the look on her face said otherwise.

"Register? Wait, do you mean that you're going to become a student here?" The poor woman looked like an alien had landed, UFO and all, in her office and asked to be registered at school (not that Ryoma noticed).

"Yes. Is there a problem with that?" What was wrong with this woman? Could she only state the obvious?

"Of course not. I assume you'll be starting on Monday?" She finally seemed to be coming to terms with the situation.

"Yes." The young prodigy was really getting bored by all this.

"Alright then. If you could fill out these forms, then return them with your parents' signature before school on Monday, we'll give your uniform and schedule then."

"Aa. Got it." Accepting the forms, he spun on his heel and walked out.

As she watched his retreating back, the receptionist only had one thought running through her head: _What just happened?_

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><p><strong>Yaaaayyyyy the first real chapter! LE GASP! Tezuka isn't captain and some loser is vice captain! What am I <strong>_**doing?**_** Guess you'll just have to keep reading, huh?**

**OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU PEOPLE! I woke up the morning after I'd posted the prologue and I had 14 damn emails! And they kept coming all day! THANK YOU! I'm so glad this got a good reception!**

**Oh, yeah, I'm giving Ryoma a tattoo and I don't care what anyone says. It'll be about a square inch and in kanji, _REVIEW_ if you absolutely can't stand the thought of "Rain" behind and a little bit below the left ear (result of a bet with Kevin). Until next time!**

**Also, big big big thank you to my ever-awesome beta, SelfHatredIsCommonEnough. If any of you have read Forbidden Desires by Luana Araceli, I think you'll like his story, Haunted by the Rain (It's. Really. Good.)**

**(1) I will be using honorifics in this story, but I will keep any other Japanese to a bare minimum. I will only use it when the English wouldn't sound right (ex: Ryoma saying "Ja ne" instead of "Bye")**

**(2) Nya = Eiji's cat-noise that he'll sometimes throw in after a sentence**

**(3) I always loved the image of Ryoma with long hair. He'll probably look like a girl, though. However, his hair is for the most part just 1-3 inches past the shoulders. I only said a few strands were to the bottom of his shoulder blades. The "samurai ponytail" would be like his dad's, aka high on his head. There'll possibly be a visual and definitely more description later.**

**(4) A type of braid, just in case someone doesn't know.**

**(5) Alto is a lower female voice range (like in opera), tenor is a higher male voice range. Pretty much, I'm saying his voice could be a boy's or a girl's.**


	3. Reunion

**Disclaimer: If I owned TeniPuri, I would make Sakuno DO SOMETHING. Saying "R-Ryoma-kun" DOES NOT COUNT! ****I do own any OC's that I'll be introducing.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Two: Reunion

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><p>Looping his hair through the elastic one more time and finishing the ponytail at the nape of his neck, Echizen Ryoma looked in the mirror. The uniform for Seishun Kokou was relatively simple. It consisted of a white dress shirt beneath a black blazer (which he left unbuttoned) with golden buttons and trim. The long black slacks matched the ensemble well, though they were completely impractical in this heat. Altogether, he could stand it, even if he <em>did <em>usually wear loose, excessively casual clothes. The only problem was…

"Kaa-san! How do you put this thing on?" He yelled as he walked into the kitchen, brandishing a navy tie in one hand.

Shaking her head and laughing the slightest bit, Rinko walked over to her son. "Here, like this. Wrap it around, then up, then back down through here." She tugged on the accessory, snapping her son out of his concentration. No doubt he was memorizing this, so as to never go through this embarrassing situation again.

"Ite! Kaa-san, too tight!" Ryoma, being as used to loose sport clothing as he is, was not enjoying his first experience with a tie.

"Don't be a baby, you'll be fine. If you really need to, you can loosen it later." The brunette gently chided her son. "Now, I've made a Japanese breakfast for your first day of school. Eat up, you don't want to be late."

"Thanks. Itadakimasu." For a few minutes, only the sounds of chopsticks and Rinko washing dishes filled the room.

Clapping once in the traditional manner, the new high school student plainly stated, "Gochisousama. Kaa-san, you're sure that they finished my room?"

Rinko nodded gently. "Mm-hm. I saw it the other day, and it looks great, you'll love it. Make sure you come home on the weekends, though, the house gets pretty lonely with your father and Ryoga still in America."

"Aa, when I can." With that, he exited the room.

Slipping into his shoes, Ryoma tugged the tie until it dangled, its new diameter several inches larger than his neck's. As a finishing touch, he undid the top button of his dress shirt. '_Much better. I don't know how people stand buttoning their shirts up all the way.'_

Snatching up his second spare racquet and sweeping it into his bag, Echizen Ryoma set off for his new school.

~X~

"Ah! Katsuo, look, Senpai-tachi are here! Fuji-senpai, how did the finals go?" Kachirou asked the smiling brunet.

"Well, in a manner of speaking." Came the enigmatic reply.

"What do you mean by that? We _did _win, right?"

"Saa…" Fuji's eyes opened, causing shivers to run down the crowd's collective spines. "Yes, we won. However, although the matches of the Golden Pair, Tezuka, and myself went along without a hitch, those of Nishi-buchou and the Aoiyama-fukubuchou/Gorou pair were…" The genius trailed off, a look of extreme distaste marring his feminine features.

"Embarrassing nya. They were total train wrecks! Mou, Oishi, why can't we have Kaidoh and Momo-chan back? And on top of that, Ochibi's pulled a disappearing act on the world!" The team's acrobat was currently being uncharacteristically negative, seeking comfort in his partner and unofficial boyfriend.

"Kikumaru! Watch your words. Be glad that Nishi-sensei didn't hear you say that." The stoic ex-captain spoke for the first time. He too was ashamed of those _particular_ matches, but if their coach heard Kikumaru saying that…

Kachirou, feeling like the whole thing was partially his fault, decided a change of subject was in order. "Well, the weirdest thing happened yesterday while you were all away," the freshman segued. "This really pretty girl showed up and challenged Kazuya-senpai to a match when he started hitting on her."

"What? Did you say a girl challenged Kazuya-san? What if she got hurt because we weren't there to stop the match? It would all be this clubs fault! Was she all right?" The mother hen Oishi had succeeded in calming his doubles partner, but when he turned to the conversation, he heard _that_.

"Wait, Oishi-senpai! I didn't finish! She beat him in less than ten minutes, and it was all with service or return aces! He didn't score a single point, but she didn't even break a sweat!"

"Yeah!" Katsuo chimed in. "It was incredible! Then afterwards, she just calmly walked away, asking us where the Main Office was like nothing had happened!"

"Hmm… Main Office, did you say? That means there is a 79.83% chance that she will be enrolling here."

"Ah! Inui, don't do that to me, nya! I'm on edge today!" the unfortunate redhead shouted, looking over his shoulder to where the data man had appeared.

Notebook in hand and glasses gleaming, Inui suddenly asked Kachirou, "You said she was a beautiful girl? Could you please describe her some more, this could be good data…"

~X~

Had one been a student of class 1-A that morning, one would've noticed the teacher's excessively strange behavior.

The young woman was practically bouncing in her seat, while managing to smile, blush and squeal all at the same time. When Horio posed the question, "Ayaka-sensei, are you alright?" she would simply giggle and say:

"You'll see soon, go take your seat! Hurry!"

The class decided that whatever it was, they would find out sooner if they settled down sooner. So, five minutes before any of the other classes had even been told to sit, class 1-A was ::cough:: _patiently_ staring at their sensei.

"Alright class. I'm extremely pleased to announce that we are receiving a transfer student. He's been traveling the past two years, so please be nice! Tehehe, you can come in now and introduce yourself."

The sliding door opened, and in walked a… boy, judging by his uniform alone. Stepping forward to stand next to the teacher's desk, he gave a small, curt bow to his classmates. "Echizen Ryoma. Nice to meet you."

A single beat of silence, and then- "Kyaaaaaa! Ryoma-sama! It's really you, right? You came back to us! I need to tell Sakuno, then your fan clubs!" As the current center of attention's eyes widened at the sight of his first crazed fan girl, (and the mention of multiple fan clubs) whispers, gasps, and the more than occasional squeal broke out in the classroom.

"Miss Osakada, please calm yourself and return to your seat. Class, I know this is extremely exciting, but I'm going to have to ask you to quiet down," Ayaka-sensei called out, her expression somewhat taking away the force behind her words.

"Ah! Echizen! You're that girl who beat Kazuya-senpai yesterday! What're you doing in Japan?" Of course, it was the bullhorn on two feet – Horio Satoshi.

"Che. You know full well that I'm a boy. I'd rather you call me one. Sensei," he turned suddenly to his new teacher. "Where should I sit?"

"Oh, right, your seat. You'll be sitting there, next to Tsukiko, she's my little sister by eight years, you know."

_'Great, my teacher is a ditz, too. Are there any _normal_ girls?' _A hand going up in his peripheral vision and a high-pitched voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Ryoma-kun, I'm Ayaka Tsukiko. It's really great to meet you." The girl had pale skin and long black-brown hair to her waist. He supposed she would've been pretty, but he couldn't tell through all the makeup she was wearing.

"Aa. A pleasure." He was trying his utmost to ignore the purring voice she was attempting to use, and the suggestive looks she threw his way from beneath pseudo-eyelashes. This was a perfect example of why he _hates fans_.

Deciding to catch up on his sleep, and blessing whoever gave him English first period, he laid his head down on his desk. As the teacher's voice became a steady background drone, the prodigy's last thought was how couldn't wait until his first tennis practice.

~X~

He napped for the rest of the morning, waking every now and then to pacify the teachers or jot a brief note down.

As the bell signifying the start of their lunch period trilled, Ryoma stood. Picking up the bento his cousin had prepared earlier today, he decided to see if the roof at this school had any good spots to nap in. At the very least, he could get away from all the questioning stares.

Opening the door to the outside, he looked around. No one was up here as of yet, that was good. Walking around the edge of the building that shielded the stairwell, he found the ladder he was looking for. Using one hand to hold his bento and one to grasp the rungs, he climbed up to the top.

Setting down the little lunchbox, he sprawled out on his back, shielding his eyes from the sun with one arm. It seemed that the main school building was the mirror image of Seigaku, just with different uniforms.

Sitting up, he opened his lunch and began to eat. Holding an onigiri in his mouth, the golden-eyed boy looked over the campus. To his far right, the dorms for sportsmen lay. Everything there, from the balanced food they were given to the various relaxants and deep sleep programs, were designed to be healthier for an athlete. Their lower floors, as he was told, held an expansive gym, filled with top of the line equipment. Even the library, after covering the core subjects, was chock full of books on the human body, information (from rules to history) on various sports, and physics (usually about centrifugal force, momentum, etc). They were also much closer to the sports fields, yet a good walks distance from the school itself. Ryoma nodded in approval. "So that's where I'll be living. Not bad…" he murmured.

To his far left were more relaxed artisan dorms. This particular chain of buildings was for those who were not in a sports related club, such as photography, painting, or music. Here, their meals were balanced, but to help them stay somewhat fit, not build muscle. There were various rooms and studios to help stimulate one's artistic sense, and there was very little by way of a gym. There was an expansive library with books on different histories: music, art, cuisine, architecture. These students also had a much shorter commute to the school building, but had quite a walk to the sports facilities, should they choose to drop by.

Directly behind him lay the entrance to the expansive campus, and the outside world.

Directly in front of him lay…

"Heeh…" He drawled, stretching out the syllable. The sports fields here were impressive, to say the least. In a cursory glance, he had seen a complete track and field setup, American football and soccer fields, a baseball diamond, a natatorium (1), a stadium that he assumed held a basketball court, and even an archery range and beach volleyball pit. Apparently, there was also a bowling alley several stories beneath his feet, and a table tennis club that practiced in the gym. What his sharp gaze was currently focused on was much closer to the school than the large expanse of vibrant green fields, though.

Directly in front of him lay the tennis club's facilities, eight hard courts (2) split into two blocks. Even from here, he could clearly see the bright white lines and nets dividing the bluish-green surface. He could tell that, despite its frequent use, the entire area was cared for to a tee. Metal beams laid flat on the surrounding ground and a large fan system indicated a dome could be put over the complex in the winter.

"Living here might be some fun…" This was his last remark before turning his attention to his loudly protesting stomach once more.

~X~

As the final bell rang, Ryoma stood while rubbing his eyes like a cat. Picking up his books, he moved towards the door. Or, he would've, had a girl not been blocking his way.' _Ayaka Tsukiko, was it?'_

"What?"

"Well, Ryo-kun, I know that since you're such a huge tennis star and all, you'll be joining the tennis club, right?" She spoke agonizingly slowly, with a simpering, lilting voice and an attempt at a seductive smile. Her hands clasped behind her back, as if to give him a better view of her chest. It struck him that she was trying to flirt. "Ryo-kun?" Fantastic. Now she was trying to flirt_ and _had a nickname for him_._

"Yeah, I am. If that's all, then-" Tsukiko saw a stand of green hair, and Echizen Ryoma was gone.

Out in the hall, the Prince made a reminder to himself to always get out of class as quickly as he could.

As he set off, Tsukiko already long forgotten, his thoughts strayed to his former (and soon to be) teammates. He hadn't seen any of them face to face since Nationals two years ago, and wondered if they had changed much. Before coming here, he had assumed that he himself was more or less the same, but with the rate that people were mistaking him for a girl, maybe he was wrong.

When he arrived at the clubhouse, he decided that it was fine to go straight in. He was joining a couple of months late in the school year, and as such had missed all the club registrations. The forms he'd filled out over the weekend had been for cases like that, and asked him to specify which club he would be in (three guesses).

As he stepped into the locker room, he noted the conspicuous lack of people. Shrugging it off, (he _was_ late) he began to change. As he pulled his shirt out, he gave a little snort. It was a slightly bigger version of the shirt he had worn to his first practice at Seigaku.

Throwing it on, he took a short, thin bandage (3) from his bag and used it to pull his hair into a high ponytail, bangs hanging free. Clouds had covered the sky about one period earlier, so he decided to leave his hat in the locker he had been assigned.

Golden eyes glittered in anticipation as Samurai Junior stepped outside, favorite red racquet in one hand, bag in another. Walking onto the busy courts, he found a quiet corner to set his things down and check his laces one last time.

He was beginning to scope out the courts when he heard yelling, directed towards him. "Hey! Pretty-boy in the corner!" A completely unknown teenager, a third year if his size was anything to go by, was walking towards him, a menacing look on his face.

"Feel like explaining why you think you're too good to set up the nets and clean the courts like little girls should?"

"Hmm…" The man was a veritable giant. He had at least a foot and a half on Ryoma, (even if the teen was only five feet tall) a heavyset face, and black hair in a severe buzz cut. However, his own ego aside, the fact that he didn't know the Prince of Tennis' face was enough for said Prince to immediately look down on him.

"You're new to tennis." It wasn't a question.

The statement, however simple, carried enough disdain and arrogance to set the third year off. "So what if I am, brat! I'm Gorou, a Regular on the team here, so I'm better than the likes of you!" By now, Ryoma found himself in an all too familiar situation. Namely, held by his collar, feet dangling two feet off the ground.

Gorou, on the other hand, was feeling slightly unsettled. This boy who looked like a girl didn't seem intimidated by him in the slightest. He just kept staring at him evenly, _disinterestedly_, in fact. This kid was _asking_ to get punched.

"Hoi hoi! Sorry for being late, minna-san. Unyah? Gorou, why are you beating up a girl!" Gorou turned his head slightly, and was greeted by the sight of his fellow Regulars walking in.

"Oh, Tezuka-san, Nishi-buchou, I'm glad you're here. This little piece of shit was slacking off, and when I asked him why, he gave me attitude." During his mini-speech, he had returned his attention to the golden cat eyes that were _still_ staring him down. Now thoroughly perturbed by them, he decided to _make _the arrogant first year blink.

Releasing his hold on the brat's shirt, he watched as he fell to the ground heavily. The impact sounded satisfyingly painful.

"Echizen?"

"Nyaaaaaa! Ochibi! What are you doing here? Wait, are you okay?"

"Echizen! Oh no, are you sure that you're fine? You're positive you didn't get hurt? But that fall was a few solid feet, you could've easily fractured something, or…"

"There is an 86.04% chance that you're not hurt, but wouldn't tell us even if you were. Also, there is a 94.81% chance that your indefinite retirement from the pro circuit was specifically to come here. Ii data…"

"Ryoma-chan, you're fine, right? Gorou-san, explain yourself now, if. You. _Please."_

"W-w-wait, what? You guys… You _know_ this worthless piece of-" Fuji's eyes being open had previously been enough to reduce him to a stuttering mess. Now, his sadistic aura combined with the collective glares of the group surrounding this 'Echizen' was enough to take away his voice for a solid 24 hours.

"As I seem to have the highest ability to be vocal _and_ civil at the moment, I will explain." The walking dead ma-::cough:: _Gorou_ took a step back. Since when was Inui standing in front of him? "The first year who you just manhandled is our former teammate and close friend, Echizen Ryoma, also known worldwide as the 'Prince of Tennis' and the 'Samurai Junior' after his father, Samurai Nanjiroh. When he was twelve, he became the youngest winner of the US Open, the youngest (and second) person to ever unlock the third door of Muga no Kyouchi, Teni Muhou no Kiwami. Since then, he won a Calendar Grand Slam, an Australian and French Open, and a Wimbledon. The latter, he actually just took about three weeks ago. Had he stayed in the circuits a few more months, doubtless he would have won another Calendar Grand Slam. Birthday is 24 of December, favorite color is silver, favorite school subject-"

"Inui." At this point, Tezuka decided to cut the data tennis player off for three reasons. The first was that he had recovered from the shock of seeing Echizen here, the second was that Gorou looked like his brain was about to shut down from the influx of information, and the third was that Inui's rambling was irritating him.

"Ah, all that talk of tournaments reminds me. Buchou, I have something to ask you." Heads turned at the title Ryoma gave the stoic teen, but he paid no mind. "You just finished the Districts, but the Nationals have been pushed back a month, right (4)?"

"Aa, sou da, sou da! And since it would be too cold everywhere else, we get to go to Osaka for Nationals in November! Na, Oishiiiiii!"

"Yeah." The dark haired boy was pretty sure the ex-vice captain continued to say something, but he was more focused on how the man was able to ignore an Eiji Glomp ™. Whatever it was, he would pay to find out.

"Echizen, why did you need to know about the different schedule?" The monotone bass of his captain's voice pulled him away from his thoughts of cat-boys and how to avoid them cutting off his airflow.

"Well, I wanted to make sure I have the time to finish up my second Grand Slam. I was planning on leaving for America in a month and a half, then coming back right after I win." The eavesdropping crowd sweat-dropped._ 'Cocky brat,'_ was running through everyone's minds.

"In short, Tezuka, he wants to repeat what he did in middle school." Inui chimed in.

"That'll be fine, right, Buchou?"

One of the Regulars had been ignored until now, simply watching the reunion with distaste. However, for Nishi Hideto, this was the last straw.

"Oi, Samurai Prince or whatever it was. I don't care who you are-" Lie. "-or what you've won-" Lie. "-but in this club, _I_ am captain, not Tezuka, so stop giving him _my_ title!" The captain was of medium height, had a gaunt complexion, and black hair that he had streaked with ice blue.

Ryoma had seemed completely unaffected by his telling-off, but at the mention of the captaincy, his eyes widened, only to narrow into a fierce glare. "Who the hell are- Ack!"

"Unyaaah! I just remembered we needed to talk to Ochibi about something! We'll be borrowing him for a minute, right Fujiko?" The redhead had intervened before their team's baby could cause any more damage. He was now dragging the star by one arm, with his best friend holding the other.

"Saa… We really should tell him what happened… Tezuka, you should be here for this, too." The prodigy had been happily watching the exchange, Gorou's discomfort in particular, but now, his eyes were open and all traces of his usual playfulness had disappeared.

Ignoring protests from their captive, Fuji and Kikumaru dragged him into the locker room with Tezuka following closely.

Setting the disgruntled teen down on a bench as his best friend closed the door, the genius leaned against the lockers a few feet away, a murderous look in his eyes.

"Senpai, Buchou, could you please tell me what that was about?" He had been dragged here against his will, so he was expecting answers. Soon.

"Echizen, as Nishi-san told you out there, I'm no longer captain. Tezuka or Tezuka-san is fine."

"Buchou is Buchou." The freshman stated with a blank stare, as if the three words explained everything. "But, what's with all the thugs in the club, and where are Momo-senpai and Kaidoh-senpai?"

"Well… Nishi-san's dad is really rich, so we think he bought his way into being our coach, nya. He made his son captain this year, and gave his son's friend the vice captain slot and one of the Regular slots…" Reliving the events seemed to be sucking the life out of the temperamental acrobat.

"Even if it_ was_ illegal." Fuji spat the words venomously, still trying to burn a hole in the tiling. "Then, he started giving _us_ a hard time if we didn't jump through hoops. It was either put up with a biased coach who can't even play, or leave Seishun's team to crash and burn. Not to mention he threatened our parents' careers with his goddamned money…" The usually levelheaded genius was getting more and more agitated as he went. Kikumaru and Tezuka had heard their friend rant several times so far, but the youngest of the group didn't even think he'd heard Fuji swear before today.

"Then Momo-senpai and Kaidoh-senpai…?" Ryoma was no longer sure he wanted to know. Everything had _seemed_ fine, but now…

"Nishi-_sensei."_ Fuji spat the honorific out like it was a foul curse. "He had never liked them. One day, they got into one of their fights, except this one ended… messily for sensei. The next day, they were banned from any and all sports teams, permanently."

Lips parted slightly, Echizen Ryoma didn't say a thing. However, wide, golden eyes were screaming one word.

_What?_

* * *

><p><strong>OH SH-NAP! I gave Momo and Kaidoh da boot! Not to worry, we'll get 'em back soon enough. Also, what do you think of Tsukiko? Isn't she the biggest slut you've ever met? I hope so, that's what I need her to be. <strong>

**Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, put me on alert, yadablah, EVERYTHING! The more you R&R, the more people that will be exposed to the glory that is me (and my story, and my overly obnoxious Authors Notes). TEEHEE.**

**(1) Natatorium=a room (building in this case) that has a pool; an indoor pool**

**(2) Three types of tennis court: red-and-dusty clay, self-explanatory grass, and as-seen-at-Seigaku hard. **

**(3) I don't mean an adhesive, Band-Aid kind of bandage, I mean a ribbon except manlier. Look on my profile for the devianart link if you wanna visual.**

**(4) In the third/fourth week of July, August, and September, there is a round of the tournament. To fit the time frame I want and give our little champ another Calendar Grand Slam, I pushed the Nationals back a month. We'll say the grounds blew up. All of them. Early November is the Nationals, in yes, Osaka. Again, confusing as hell, review or PM any questions to me.**


	4. Of Golf Carts and Fraternities

**Disclaimer: See prologue**

**Warnings (forgot about these…): I'll tell you at the start of a chapter if there's anything else, but I'm only saying this once. This fic has shounen ai and cursing (I only censor the F word). There. On with the chapter!**

* * *

><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Three: Of Golf Carts and Fraternities

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, Miss, but we don't allow player's girlfriends on the courts." Ryoma twitched. What was wrong with people?<p>

Sensing his irritation, Oishi coughed. "Well, Nishi-sensei, this is actually a boy. He was our teammate in middle school, and you might've heard of him. It's Echizen Ryoma?" The teen trailed off, the end of his statement coming out as a question.

Ryoma, on the other hand, gave a slight scowl. So this was Nishi-sensei. One wouldn't be able to peg him as a rich, nepotistic bastard. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair he wore slicked back and a plain face. The only thing separating him from the masses was the excessive amount of brand names on his person.

"Oh yeah, you're that late entry Sawada-kouchou told me about. Well, get to work. I think that Court B needs a ball boy." All of the man's previous courtesy disappeared, to be replaced by a careless, apathetic air. Well, _someone_ was about to show him how it was done.

"No." The brat's reply echoed through the courts, stopping Nishi-sensei in his path to Court A.

"Excuse me, what was that?" The man looked like he knew full well what the newest club member had said.

"I said no, _Sensei._ I won't pick up balls. I entered this club under the assumption that I would actually play tennis. If not, I could use a break, and swimming's good for cross-training." While in most cases, Ryoma might not have been quite so vehement in his response, this was not 'most cases.'

By now, Nishi-sensei was spitting fire, and ready to take up Ryoma's proposition to choose swimming over tennis. However, two certain brunettes came to their kouhai's rescue.

"Echizen, stop making trouble on your first day," scolded Tezuka, to be closely followed by:

"Ryoma-chan, if you're that eager to play, we can have a rematch. I'll have to ask you remove your weights, though." The genius was smiling widely, eyes wide in anticipation. He had never felt such a thrill as that match in the rain, it seemed so long ago…

" Hmm… Yes to the first, but you'll have try and make me on the second." Despite his arrogant words, the teen was trying not to bounce in excitement.

Back in the professional league, there was no such thing as a simple challenge for the adrenaline rush. Everything was a dangerous maze, all too easy to lose yourself in should you make even one mistake. Matches were almost never about having fun and the love of the game, influenced as they were by money, propaganda, and the media. Some opponents would only be in tournaments for the money, or wouldn't give their all because their manager said they would garner support by losing. _Those_ people, to say the least, disgusted him.

The matches in the pro circuits that had managed to excite him were few and far between. The matches in Japanese middle school circuits were a constant battle of strength, wills, and passion. In all honesty, his choice had not been a hard one.

"Nishi-sensei, will that be a problem?" Tezuka decided to make sure two of his best players didn't get kicked off the team for an unauthorized match.

"Hmm…" The addressed man looked over to the two bishounens, who were currently locked in a fierce staring match, occasionally trading words. "Fuji, make sure you put the brat in his place. You can use Court F, over in Block Two."

"Thank you, Sensei." Once again, the bespectacled teen had to respond for his teammates. "Fuji, Echizen, stop antagonizing each other. Sensei said you can have your match in Block Two."

Grudgingly turning away from their verbal sparring, the two followed their former captain out of the gates.

"Inui. You seem to know everything about everyone. Who was that kid, and why did he think he could mouth off?" asked the coach with a sneer, watching the backs of the three club members.

"Does your phone have internet reception here? 100% chance that you would find a lengthy page on him, should you search for one."

Blinking in surprise, Nishi watched his father pull out a phone. "Oi, Inui. Why would there be a big page on the brat?"

Smiling, the data man turned away. "Ask your father, he should've found something by now. If you'll excuse me, it's time for the first years' laps." With that, Nishi the elder and younger were left alone, the other Regulars having long departed.

"Dad, anything on- Hey, what's wrong?" Seishun's coach was pale, sweating, and gasping like a fish.

"Hideto… That kid… I'd heard about him, but to think that that girly little shrimp…" The man's words came out garbled and incoherent.

"Dad, you're not making any sense. What the f*** could be so special about that kid? Never mind, let me see that." Snatching the phone from his father's hand and not caring that he looked like he was having a coronary, the captain stared at the little screen.

Of all the things Nishi Hideto was expecting to see on that screen, words like, "_teen prodigy, young millionaire, world-wide fame," _and "_Calendar Grand Slam," _were most definitely _not_ on the list.

"H-him?"

~X~

"Ii yo. I'm done warming up."

The little yellow ball pounded against a red racquet, flying across the court at 219 kilometers per hour and nicking the top of the net. From there, it spun uncontrollably, darting across the receiver's box in every direction before landing a foot in front of the net and returning once more to the server.

"G-Game, to Challenger. Two games to one."

The small crowd that had gathered around Court F was silent for a split second before the murmuring began.

"That serve just now…"

"You saw it too, right?"

"Is that sort of thing legal?"

"I'm didn't even know that sort of thing was possible…"

"Feels like I know that kid…"

"Same here."

"It couldn't be… _him_, could it?"

"Mada mada dane, Fuji-senpai." A wry smile in place, Ryoma pointed his racquet at the genius. "I call it Dance to the Apocalypse (1)."

"A very interesting ball, Ryoma-chan. You've gotten quite good."

"Did Fuji-san just say Ryoma?"

"As in…"

"…the Prince of Tennis?"

"Ne, Fuji-senpai. It's your turn and I still need to break that Disappearing Serve." This was what he had missed, he hadn't felt this alive in so long. A corner of his mind did wonder, '_Why is it that only a select few fully grown professionals are as good as the people in a high school tennis club?_' but the thought was bound, gagged, and thrown in a mental closet, as it was deemed irrelevant.

The brunet's clear blue eyes slid closed once more and he chuckled. "Still stubborn as ever, I see. Alright then, this ball will disappear," the soft, melodic voice rang out across the court, penetrated by the clean _"smack" _of a ball being served.

Eyes narrowing, Ryoma followed the ball's path, waiting for the instant between its bounce and its inevitable cut to the right.

Using a basic Super Rising Shot to send the ball flying back, the cat-eyed boy smirked. "I won't let it," he taunted. Their game continued for several minutes, each of them neck and neck. When it became advantage receiver for the third time, the younger player decided to try _it_.

As Fuji returned the ball, his opponent noticed an ideal chance. _Slice. Perfect._

"Moon Drop," he muttered. True to its name, the ball was a drop shot. However, had Fuji not been good enough to hit it before it struck the ground, its powerful slice spin would have sent it flying back into the net. Since Fuji _was_ good enough to reach it, the spin sent the ball flying into the air… and deeper into the genius's side of the court.

The crowd stood completely still, having never seen a shot of its kind before. Even the usually unshakable genius was stunned, not noticing the gentle pat signaling that the ball had completed its tall, lazy arc. "Heeh… Congratulations, Fuji-senpai, you're the first opponent to see the perfected Moon Drop."

The effeminate teen's simple reply was, "I'm honored, but…" Bright blue eyes snapped open, and a close-lipped smile appeared on his face. "That shot requires quite a bit of under-spin, doesn't it? I doubt that all of that spin was yours, in fact."

Ryoma had a snarky reply already prepared, and had just opened his mouth when a drop of cold water landed on his nose. Looking up, he saw that the pale gray clouds that had covered the sky a few hours prior had turned a stormy, dark shade. Little droplets were falling from above, staining the courts dark green. Witty comeback forgotten, the words that escaped his lips instead were, "You have got to be joking."

Knowing right away what the young pro meant, Fuji chuckled. "Saa, it would seem that someone up there is against our finishing a match."

Little droplets fell from already matted black hair as the owner snorted. However, ridiculous as his upperclassman's idea may be, he had to admit (if only to himself) what a strange coincidence this rainstorm was. "I would've won anyway," he smirked cockily as they faced each other from opposite sides of the net.

"Now, now Ryoma-chan, that isn't very nice. And who knows how the match would've ended, I had some new tricks that I was waiting to use…" The brunet trailed off with a smile, leaving a beat of silence before Tezuka called out to them.

"Echizen, Fuji, hurry. We've been told to return to our dorms."

"Ochibi, Fujiko, hop on, nya! We got your bags, so hurry!" There was a splash and the squeal of tires as a six-person golf cart screeched to a stop just outside Block Two. Kikumaru was waving enthusiastically from the driver's seat, with Oishi grinning sheepishly at them from behind one flailing arm and Inui beside him, scribbling away in his notebook.

"They let us – no, scratch that. They let _Kikumaru-senpai_ drive a golf cart around campus." At this point, Ryoma was too incredulous to make the sentence a question. The mere thought of the energetic redhead driving _any_ vehicle, much less one where he was a passenger, sent apprehensive shudders down his spine.

"On days that there are high chances of rain, yes, they let the athletes drive to and from their dorms," came the merry reply. "Eiji, being who he is, always wants to drive us around on those days. Despite his speed, he's really quite good." During his explanation, Fuji had started to walk briskly towards the cart, ("Hurry up, nya, before we get all wet and cold!") forcing the now thoroughly soaked Echizen to follow.

"Fuji-senpai, you're speaking as if we aren't about to get into a cart, driven by a virtually ADHD teen, on a rainy, low-visibility day." Translation: That's bull, no way in hell am I getting on that thing.

Unfortunately, by now the duo were within earshot of said virtually ADHD teen. "Mou, Oishi! We haven't seen him in two years and Ochibi's already being mean!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose and already feeling an incoming headache at the cat-boy's wailing, Tezuka decided to intervene. "Echizen, get on the cart. It's faster and he hasn't killed us yet."

The addressed teen sighed. It would seem that even after two years, he still couldn't go against his captain's (he refused to add 'former' to the title) orders. "Fine, but if we crash, I'm not going to be the one telling my manager," he stated huffily as he sat down.

The equally soaked and equally pretty teen on his right seemed to find that amusing. Then again, _everything_ seemed to be cause for merriment in Fuji's world. "I must say, Ryo-chan, I didn't think that only two years away would turn you into such a diva."

"Don't call me Ryo-chan. And don't compare me to Monkey King," was the Prince's (diva's) petulant reply.

"Hm. It would seem that, in Echizen's mind, diva equates to Atobe, and Atobe equates to Monkey King. Ii data… Oh yes, Echizen, what dorm room are you in? I haven't been able to find that out with the limited time I've had."

"Um… I think it was something like T-V-1-8…" As always, remembering even the smallest thing was a chore for their team's rookie.

"Hm. Ii data. It would appear that you're taking the last room in our dorm then… It stands for Tennis Varsity, Dorm One, Room Eight. 99% chance that the dorm officials know we are your former teammates and you will, in all probability, be joining us on the Regulars soon." Well, there was one of his first _pleasant_ surprises all day. So he'd be living with his senpai-tachi, huh?

"Inui, I thought we agreed on this. It's a _fraternity_, not a dorm." Fuji chided laughingly.

"That was _your_ room that all those big guys were working on? Really?" Looking away from the road and speaking for the first time since Ryoma had gotten on the cart, Oishi's dark green eyes were wide in surprise.

"I guess so. I haven't seen it yet. What's so special about it?" True, the young star had cash to burn and his mother knew that, but he was beginning to wonder what he had been thinking when he gave her free reign regarding his dorm room. Swallowing, he pictured the many things she could and would have done to his future home. Not. _Pretty_.

"It's incredible, Ochibi you'll love it! It's so awesome that you're in our frat! Oh yeah, guys, we're almost there, nya." The redhead behind the wheel piped up. This led to his least sensitized (2) passenger noticing their speed.

"Gah! Kikumaru-senpai, slow the hell down!" the boy screamed at his upperclassman. Even his sharp eyesight had trouble processing the rapidly passing scenery, barely catching more than a blur of color.

"Hahaha! Don't mind, don't mind," the driver chanted happily. "See, everyone's used to my driving! It's always like this and we're fine."

Despite his reassurances, the rattled freshman grabbed his bag and jumped off the vehicle (in his mind, _deathtrap_ was the preferred term) before it had stopped completely. Those with good eyesight could see his failed attempts at not shaking.

"So Echizen is afraid of high speeds. Ii data," mumbled Inui, rising briskly from his seat.

Already safely tucked into the small alcove shielding the dorm's front door from the elements, the subject of Inui's new 'ii data' replied petulantly. "I have no problems with high speeds, Inui-senpai, when I am sure they won't kill me. Now can someone with a key hurry up and open the damn door, I'm freezing and my keys are apparently in my room."

"Ryo-chan, I'll let you in if you apologize for swearing twice in so many minutes." The genius' mirth at all the chaos during the ride over to the dorms had disappeared, and he now had a stern look on his face.

"No, why should I?"

"Ry-o-ma. Apologize."

The boy shuddered. Fuji's eyes were actually _open_ for god's sake. Why did he care that much?

"Mou, Fujiko, Ochibi, you're taking too long. I'm unlocking it." Making good of his words, Kikumaru bounced up to the frosted glass doors, whipping out a key card as he went. Swiping it once and grinning at the green light and its accompanying 'beep,' he gave a mock bow, raindrops flying off the tips of his hair.

Holding the door open with an, 'in you go' gesture, the acrobat watched his teammates file in before following suit.

Ryoma whistled as he looked around. After stepping through a mudroom where they had taken off their squeaking shoes, the group had entered a large, round foyer, two stories tall. The walls were fitted with dark mahogany bookshelves, (already fully stocked) but what could be seen of the walls themselves was a creamy off-white. A thick, wall-to-wall carpet dyed a blue to match Fuji's eyes blanketed the floor. To either side of him, he saw a spacious archway, each leading to a hallway.

There was a round dent in the center of the room, but instead of a straight drop, the floor itself sloped downwards gently. In the middle of the space, a large plasma TV sat on a platform (he got the message immediately: Worship the Television) with several games consoles, beanbags, and a soft looking dark-leather couch on the floor around it.

Above the bookshelves, also conformed to the wall, was a walkway/loft, with eight mahogany doors lining it. To reach the walkway, a staircase could be seen to the right, and to the left… there was no way they had honestly included a slide. It appeared that each door had the occupant's name on a gold plaque, but several had chosen to further decorate theirs. Above the doors was-

Ryoma gasped softly.

In place of a ceiling, a giant domed skylight loomed over the foyer.

Seeing his awe at their living arrangements, some of the others laughed. "Impressive, isn't it, Ryo-chan? Since we're basically the Varsity tennis team, our dorm's nicer than the others. Also, when the men began working on your room, they replaced the other set of stairs with our slide, renovated the kitchen and dining room, down the right side hallway, and added-" Fuji began to explain, before being cut off by his excitable friend.

"The onsen, nya! Oh yeah, and they put new stuff in the gym… But they also expanded the game room! It's insane! It's got pool, ping pong, cards, arcade stuff, board games…" As the redhead rambled on about what was no doubt his favorite place in the dorm, Ryoma's thoughts were more focused on the fact that this building had its own gym and onsen. How rich was this school, anyways? Seigaku had always seemed normal…

'_Don't question it. You should've known when you saw all of the sports fields.' _Looking around once more, he noticed a problem. "You said that I'm taking the last room. If there are only five of you, who's in the other two?"

Coincidently, Kikumaru had just finished his description of the game room, decided that they should show 'Ochibi' and shouted, "You two, come downstairs! We're home and going to the game room!" up the stairs.

"Just a sec, Eiji-senpai!" yelled a familiar, albeit sleepy, voice. "Oi! Mamushi, you coming or not?"

"Shut it, Momoshiri, I'm busy!" a deep, irritated voice yelled back.

There was the sound of a door opening, then slamming shut as Momoshiro Takeshi appeared on the walkway. "What was that, bastard? We all know you're just scared I'll kick your ass at pool again!" taunted Momo, who had yet to notice one of his best friends.

Slamming his door open, Kaidoh saw a face he hadn't expected. While, yes, he did the idiot's ugly mug, the unexpected face was down ten feet in the foyer. Now, instead of the usual lone bishounen, (Fuji) there were two. "Echizen?"

Both blinking and looking bewildered, the rivals felt all of their previous hostility drain away. "What's Echizen got to do with all this? Did his Houdini impersonation mess up your head?" Momo's purple eyes were actually filled with concern. Then again, he was honestly questioning the sanity of someone he had known for years.

Honestly concerned he may be, but that didn't mean Kaidoh took the question well. "No, you f***ing moron, turn around. It's him!"

"What are you – Echizen! What the hell? _This_ was where you disappeared to? You little brat, this just like Nationals, you can't do that, you just can't! You impulsive little-" Momo had managed to keep up a steady tirade as he turned, ran halfway around the walkway, jumped on and skidded down the slide, ran over to the cause of his rant, and put said cause in a headlock. By the last two words, he was affectionately (yet mercilessly) noogie-ing the top of Ryoma's head.

"Momo-chi! You're choking Ochibi, let go!" Oh, the irony.

"Ah, my bad." The teen Momo had just released didn't reply, preoccupied as he was with trying to catch his breath. "Has anyone told you that you look like a girl?"

"Echizen, are you okay? Maybe you should go to your room. Eiji, you can show him the game room some other time, he's had a long day." Oishi had cut in before the short (and yes, extremely effeminate) teen before him could kill Momo for his question.

"Mm. I will, thanks. Oh, hey Kaidoh-senpai." Ryoma had turned to find the man a few feet away, looking thunderstruck. "Which one's Room Eight?"

"Fssshhhhh…"

"Echizen, Room Eight is directly at the top of the stairs. You're next to me." Surprisingly it was Tezuka who had spoken up, turning away from the bookshelves.

"And me, Ryo-chan. I'm on your right." Fuji seemed extremely pleased by this, despite the fact that he must have figured it out one way or another ages ago.

"Yay! I'm only two down from Ochibi! Listen, nya. Evens are on the right, and odds are on the left. From Momo-chi's room on the far left, the rooms go number one, three, five, seven, eight, six, four, two," Kikumaru explained, before suddenly turning to the other six. "Listen, everyone! We're letting Ochibi and Fujiko clean up, then we're having dinner and partying in here!"

The shortest member (still) of their quasi-household sighed. "Kikumaru-senpai, why do we have to-" He stopped talking then, due to his memory being refreshed as to just how strong an Eiji Glomp ™ could be.

Bright blue eyes suddenly glared daggers at the redhead's back. "Saa… Eiji, could you let go of my Ryo-chan?" The words were soft, clipped, and threatening. Chills ran down everyone's spines.

"Unyah! Oishi! Fujiko's scary!" The teen had immediately jumped, catlike, onto his partner.

Shaking off the paralyzing effects of his new neighbor's gaze, Ryoma turned towards the stairs. "Ja, I'll be up there. And I'm not 'your Ryo-chan.'"

As he started up the steps, his thoughts quickly turned to a hot shower and food. Noting that he needed a nameplate for the door, the tennis star swung it open.

And immediately felt the urge to smack himself.

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><p><strong>Yaayyyyyy! This sucker just broke 10K! Maybe some more people will review, then… Oh, and all you people reading but not reviewing, thinking "Oh, one review isn't going to matter to her," IT MATTERS. EVERY. REVIEW. MATTERS.<strong>

**God, now I know what people meant when they say they suck at action (…tennis?) scenes. The shots don't (and future ones **_**won't**_**) make much sense, but in my defense, neither do the ones in the canon. I'll go really into detail for important matches ONLY.**

**WHO WANTS THEIR DORM? I KNOW I DO! If that part was confusing, there's a floor plan in my devianart account (link's on my profile). The plans for Ryoma's room (described in the next chapter) are there, too.**

**(1) Dance to the Apocalypse – Ryoma puts slice spin on the ball when serving it, but makes it hit the top of the net, producing topspin. Using PoT logic, this makes it spin all over the place before bouncing directly in front of the net and returning to Ryoma. **

**(2) By least sensitized, I mean to Kikumaru's crazy driving.**


	5. Drastic Times

**Disclaimer: See Prologue**

**Whew this is a whopper. Longest chapter yet at almost 5000 words... You know you love me. A million thanks and cyber cookies to those who reviewed, sometimes I just go read them to boost my ego. That goes for everyone that put me on alert and their favorites, too. I just like reviews slightly more.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Four: Drastic Times

_Last Time: As he started up the steps, his thoughts quickly turned to a hot shower and food. Noting that he needed a nameplate for the door, the tennis star swung it open. _

_And immediately felt the urge to smack himself._

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><p>True, he was in no need for cash, but with the renovations Fuji had told him about <em>and<em> this… His mother was trying to ruin him.

The floors were wood with a glossy, light gold stain, and a square silver rug covered the center. The walls were painted a pale sky blue, although one of them (the wall opposite him) had no paint at all, as it was made entirely of glass. Over by the right edge of this wall were sliding doors, through which he could see a patio, complete with two chairs and a small table.

Almost directly in front of him and lined up against the window/wall was a pastel green cat bed. He was pleased to see his beloved Karupin sleeping soundly in it.

On the floor directly to the right of his feet was what seemed to be a (_You're joking, Kaa-san…)_ trapdoor. Two-and-a-half feet squared, a small chrome handle sat on one side. The Roman letters (1) 'ER' in midnight blue dominated the center.

Between the entrance to the patio and the trapdoor was a low chest, its color matching that of the rug. The top half consisted of a single drawer, and the lower half seemed to be a bookshelf. He could see several of his favorite titles and authors among the multicolored spines. On top of the chest… People really were going to think him a diva.

Eight pictures stood in a row on top of the chest, each of him holding a sizeable trophy, plaque, or other form of award. All were from a day that he had won one of the four major tournaments.

His eyes fell on the Wimbledon picture from just a few weeks ago, then the blank space next to it. He snorted, feeling as if his mother was sending him subliminal messages via the space. _"I know you'll win the next US Open, honey."_

He found the image above the piece of furniture much less self-absorbed. It was a three-foot wide, two-foot tall copy of the picture he had been forced into two years ago on top of that mountain. He gave a small smile at his younger self being held in place by a bubbly Kikumaru.

Finally, his incredulous gaze switched to the ceiling. The lights had switched on when he entered, except now he found that they weren't lights at all. The entire ceiling was made of some form of screen that was currently set to an HD picture of a clear sky at high noon, minus the sun. Somehow, it managed to give an accurate portrayal of daylight, though. How much had this honestly cost? He didn't even know they had something that could do this…

Deciding that a shower was more important (or rather, pressing) than grilling his mother over the phone about how much of _his_ money she'd spent, Ryoma sighed. Shaking his head and walking a few steps along the wall directly to his left, he opened a sliding door that he assumed was the bathroom.

Assumption proving to be correct, he once again looked around. Thankfully, the bathroom was relatively normal, with tiling and overall color scheme in modern black, white, and chrome. There was also no fancy ceiling, just the odd lighting fixture here and there.

The sink had a few black drawers beneath it and a shelf at the very bottom where he could see crisp white towels stacked. A marble countertop gleamed white and twisting, modern faucets were reflected in the large mirror above the counter.

On the right of the sink was a plain white toilet, which faced a shower with frosted glass walls.

Finding what he was looking for, the waterlogged boy slid the door shut behind him. He quickly stripped off the wet garments clinging to him and threw them on the tiles. Finally, his fingers tugged at the knot he had tied in the little… for want of a manlier word, ribbon, letting his wet green hair flop onto his shoulders.

He took the few steps to the shower and swung the door open, drily noting how, apart from his standard front door, it seemed to be the only one on hinges. Closing the door, and seeing the rest of the bathroom warp and go out of focus through the frosted glass, he looked for how to turn on the nozzle above his head.

Again, the urge to smack himself washed over the exasperated teen.

A gleaming black touch screen was embedded in the tile below the nozzle. Seeing an, 'ON' button in the corner, he pressed it. The screen flickered to life, and electric blue writing on a black background appeared.

_Welcome, Echizen Ryoma. Please select your preferred temperature and jet strength._

Two meters appeared below the words, one with a blue strip that shifted to red around its edge and the other a bar with a little showerhead at the top and bottom, the top blasting water and the bottom barely more than dripping.

Setting the heat next to the reddest section and the jet strength in the middle, he felt hot water pour onto his head right away.

Noticing the screens display change, he saw five buttons:

_Shampoo – Conditioner – Soap – Music – Off_

While four were obvious, Music? Pressing the button out of sheer curiosity, he heard a song from his iPod begin playing. He wasn't even surprised anymore.

A few minutes later, he stepped out of the stall. Snatching a towel from beneath the sink, he began to dry off.

Suddenly slipping on the water that had pooled beneath him, he flung a hand out to steady himself. As his hand drew away from the wall (directly opposite the shower and toilet) he noticed the silver handle beneath it. A door?

Sliding it open, (he would have no clue how to turn a handle by tomorrow morning – he was sure) he saw a large closet that he could take one or two steps into. He could see several school uniforms hanging to his right, along with the one formal suit he owned and matching loafers. The rack on the left seemed to hold his extensive collection of tennis shirts. A full-blown dresser rested beneath it, (presumably for undergarments, shorts, and pants) and with his various caps on top. A modest black hamper sat beside it, which he decided not to throw his sopping clothes in. The rack facing the closet doors had any other clothes, jackets, etc. that didn't fall in any of the previous categories. Lucky for him, this included pajamas.

He stepped into the main room a minute later in sweatpants and a t-shirt, wet clothes in one hand. Making a beeline to the patio, he saw that the rain had stopped sometime during his shower. Sliding the glass out of his way, he stepped onto the deck and draped his clothes over the rail, then walked back inside.

Seeing a change in the floor color to his right, he turned his head. A custom, slightly rounded bed sat flush with the floor, the two entities completely level. Navy blankets sat on top, silver sheets could be seen as the bed had been turned down, and several pillows with pastel green covers were lined up against the wall that served as a headboard.

From his vantage point, he saw a top-of-the-line sound system nestled in a niche that ran the length of the bed. Above it was a collection of CD's and tennis magazines, with room for more. Below it was a screen similar to the one in his shower.

'_I'll find out later…'_

A few feet above the bed was the only light in the room, a simple LED fixture for reading at night. There was a jumble of colors, faces, and sceneries lying beneath it, and he walked over to the bed to examine them.

What met his eyes was a jumble of snapshots, of him, his family, his friends. A photograph that's size matched the one from the mountain across the room took up the center of the collage. The team was on the courts after his match with Yukimura Seiichi. Everyone was grinning (some more than others) and Tezuka, their rightful captain, proudly holding the embroidered flag.

He was determined to have a newer version of it before the year was up.

Looking out the glass that made up the third wall of his bed's little alcove, he noticed the dorms a little ways off and the scenic parks in between. This was the last time his mother would _ever_ design a room for him, but he had to admit, he wouldn't mind living here.

~X~

"_Hoi hoi, minna-san! Dinner's ready and in the foyer! Tezuka, that means get out of your Quiet Room!_"

Looking up from his tennis magazine (no, he was _not_ reading an article about himself… this time) Ryoma stood gracefully. Upon closer inspection of his closet, he'd found a beanbag that matched the pillows on his bed, as well as several pairs of Fila's "generously donated" sneakers in varying colors and one or two pairs of sandals.

Ryoma had pulled the squashy chair into the main room and set it down next to his cat's bed. The cat-eyed teen had then proceeded to pluck a Japanese tennis magazine from the shelf by his bed, flopped down, and stayed in that position until Kikumaru's loud announcement came through an intercom that he'd just found out he had.

Walking over to the door, he looked at the white box on the wall. There was a button for each member of the team, the gym, kitchen/dining room, laundry room, (_We have our own laundry room, too?)_ game room, foyer, and Tezuka's Quiet Room. Strangely, the latter was in red and had, "ONLY PRESS IN EMERGENCIES" written below its label. The last button, which is what he presumed Kikumaru had used moments before, was labeled, "HOUSE-WIDE."

Wondering if he could somehow block Momo, Kikumaru, and possibly Fuji from constantly calling him, he swung his door open.

He immediately smelled the delicious scent of burgers, the only Western food he truly loved. Quickly taking the few steps to the slide and jumping on, (hey, why not?) the young pro put his strong legs to use, hitting the ground running and jumping over the floor's slope and a beanbag. And there was the meat.

Kikumaru and Oishi had swept the beanbags and game consoles to the bottom of the slope, putting a long folding table in their place. A massive tray of plain burgers on their buns was on one end, fries next to them, and a large selection of toppings took up the other.

"Ochibi! That was awesome! You should challenge that kangaroo bastard from Hyotei to a jumping match! Here want some Ponta? We've got a bunch in this cooler…"

"Eiji," interjected the redhead's boyfriend with a sheepish grin. "His name is Gakuto, not 'that kangaroo bastard'"

"But Oishiiiiii!" Ryoma turned his attention away as his upperclassman went on a tirade about the evil that is Gakuto.

Sipping his grape Ponta, a company whose offer to sponsor him he had gleefully accepted, he looked at the burgers. He honestly didn't know if the fact that the kitchen had so many was ridiculous or not. _Not_, he decided, what with eight hungry _and _competitive teenage boys living here.

As he sat down on a beanbag a few minutes later next to Momo and Fuji, the hungry teen tore into his massive dinner. Once again, he started a competition with his best friend as to who could eat more.

"Hoi? Where's Tezuka? Can someone who's content with dying go knock on the door of his quiet room, nya?" inquired Eiji, who seemed to be acting as host for the little party.

"What's Buchou's 'Quiet Room?' Kikumaru-senpai's mentioned it a few times now," asked the newest member of the household.

A feminine laugh (giggle, really) chimed from his left. "It's a completely soundproof room above the mudroom, though all of the wall's facing outside the dorm are glass. It was originally just the quiet room, but as Kunimitsu virtually took it over, we renamed it. He's the only one who ever tries to escape the chaos – Momo-chan, Kaidoh, and Eiji usually cause it, Inui can get 'Ii data' from it, Oishi tries to break it up, and I personally enjoy it. Right, Eiji?"

"Mm-hm" came the reply, slightly garbled due to the excess of fries in the speaker's mouth.

"I'll go get him, then. He's less likely to kill me." With that, the brunet on Ryoma's left stood.

"So Momo-senpai, they told me you guys got kicked off the team." The boy's words were seemingly blunt and callous, though anger could be seen smoldering in his golden eyes. "Did they just decide it wasn't worth moving you now that you were all settled?"

The usually easy-going teen on his right had sobered immediately. "Yeah… I can't believe they let that bastard get away with giving us the boot, though. He must've bribed them. You just can't do that, no you can't (2)."

"Fssshhhhh…"

Ryoma took that as Kaidoh's once-in-a-lifetime concurrence. "Sorry to sound cocky-"

"I'm used to it."

"Che. Anyways, sorry to sound cocky, but I'm probably richer than him, from the tournaments, sponsors, ads and whatever. I was thinking on this when I was in my room…"

~X~

Ryoma finished scribbling the answers to his (unnecessary) English homework down.

Apparently, when he slid back the trap door, a ladder that led to another room was beneath it. He had climbed down after dinner to find a sort of living room, the floor the same gold paneling as upstairs but with beige walls and a vibrant red rug. The bright scarlet and his favorite color, silver, seemed to set the color scheme for the rest of the room (excluding the occasional purple Ponta-themed décor).

On the side nearest the ladder was a plasma screen TV, an entertainment system, and a large couch. On the other side, there was a mini-fridge that held nothing but grape Ponta. In fact, the silver appliance seemed to be custom made for him, as the trim and most of the giant Ponta label on top were purple.

A desk with a new Macintosh computer sat in the corner that would be below his closet, complete with a large desk chair on wheels. His personal favorite thing about the desk was that, in lack of a window, his mother had placed yet another two-by-three-foot picture above it, only this one was of Karupin's head poking out from behind a pillow the size of his torso. Even better, the pillow was a giant, plush grape Ponta can.

There were only two problems with the room.

One: It had that strange ceiling, which he had taken the liberty of setting to '_Night_' via his computer. The ceiling was now an expanse of velvety, midnight blue littered with stars. A faux-crescent moon cast soft, silvery light over the room, and his desk lamp was switched on.

Two: Yet again, the wall facing outside was made completely of glass, with sliding doors. Sliding doors that opened onto a wrap-around porch like those at traditional temples. A porch could be accessed from the onsen, patio, (which was attached to the kitchen) or _any_ of his housemate's similar doors.

Earlier, the Prince had gotten this unwelcome surprise in the form of Kikumaru running past, screaming, "Unyaaah! Ochibi, run! Fujiko, help! Inui's about to blow up his part of the porch!"

Sighing and putting his pencil down, Ryoma shoved his completed homework into a folder, which was then placed in his tennis bag. It was time to figure out how much this had cost him.

Flopping down on the low red loveseat next to his desk, he pulled out his phone and called his mother.

"_Hello, Echizen residence."_

"Kaa-san? It's me."

"_Oh, hello honey, how was school? Do you like your room?"_

"That's the problem. How much of my money did you spend? I don't want to go broke before the year's out."

"_Hahaha. Don't worry, silly. The only _really_ expensive things were the techie parts, and those came for free from a sponsor. The cost of the rest of it didn't even get rid of your first US Open's winnings."_

"And the freaky ceiling and electronic freaking shower?"

"_The sponsor, honey, remember? They were only too happy to hear that _the_ Echizen Ryoma was going to sample their newest products. They did want feedback, though."_

"I'm not doing any interviews."

"_Don't worry, you can just tell me if it works well and I'll pass it on."_

"You won't add anything to it?"

"_Of course not. They just want to be able to say you use it and it works, they know you aren't going to be giving rave reviews about a product any time soon."_

"Huuuuhhh… Whatever, then. Just tell me next time you do something big with money that's under my name. Good night."

"_Good night, sweetie. Love you."_

"Aa. See you."

Ryoma hung up, sighing again. While it's true that he was glad his finances were still intact, he was also (once again) resigning to the fact that his mother had some sort of way to pacify him.

It was annoying.

As the huffy teen shoved his phone back into his pocket, his sharp ears heard a few soft plinks of rain on the roof. Remembering the clothes he had left on the balcony, Ryoma grabbed his bag (not wanting to have to come down here tomorrow morning) and scrambled up the ladder.

Sure enough, when his rumpled green-black locks poked through the trapdoor, a few drops of rain had already dyed little circles on the stone decking black. Throwing his tennis bag next to the bookshelf, (3) he strode over to the doors, shoving the glass pane aside.

The teen was _about_ to turn on his heel and get back to the shelter of his room, but –

"Ryo~chan."

He turned. He saw the simple black iron bars making up the railing. He saw one stretch of railing to his left. He saw the railing in front of him expand… to another balcony. He saw the railing to his right… had a one Fuji Syuusuke standing behind it.

"Don't worry, it's only going to drizzle for a few minutes." The genius' smile was wider than usual, his head tilted to the side… with his shirt in one hand instead of over his torso (4). "Ryo-chan? Are you okay; you look like you've seen a demon."

'_Interesting choice of words, I have.'_

"Fuji-senpai, what are you doing?" Translation from Ryoma-speak to Ryoma-thoughts: What in the_ hell_ are you doing on my balcony without a shirt on when it's pitch black out?

"Saa, Ryo-chan, it's my balcony, too. Everyone in the frat, except Momo down on the end, shares one. Did you forget that I'm your neighbor?" Ryoma had paled a bit when he saw Fuji. Now, he was white as a sheet, eyes wide.

"Damn it."

Fuji giggled quietly as Ryoma's door slammed closed. This was going to be _such_ a fun year. How he had missed his little Prince.

~X~

'_Night'_

_'This setting will turn off four hours after activation. Is that okay?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Good night.'_

As it turned out, the screen next to his bed was a way of controlling the ceiling, which could be set to Midday, Night, Early Morning, Sunset, Forest, (where a web of bright green leaves spread across the screen) and strangely enough, Underwater. Why he would ever need to use the latter, he would never know. Downstairs, the lights were controlled via the computer, and instead of Underwater, (which was to match the blues/greens/silvers up here, he guessed) the red-themed living area had Firelight. He hadn't tried it, but at least he might someday. Why, though, oh God why, would he need to feel underwater?

Shaking his head and rolling onto one side, the tennis star let fatigue overwhelm him.

~X~

"O-_chi_-biiiiii!"

Gold eyes snapped open. Stupid Kikumaru-senpai had slammed his stupid door open stupidly loud at six-fifty in the stupid morning.

"Nya? Where's Ochibi? Ah! Oishi, you don't think he got kidnapped, do you? Ochibi! Where are you, nya?" The cat-boy's voice drifted in and out of focus, irritating Ryoma enough to drag his mind awake, kicking and screaming.

"Eiji, calm down. Echizen has that sunken bed in the corner, he's probably still asleep." came the pacifying voice of Oishi Shuichiro.

"Oh. Right. But Oishi, it's all sunny out so we need time for the walk, plus breakfast, getting ready, and, you know, _that."_

By now, the subject of their discussion was almost irritated enough to jump up, kick them out of his room, and fall asleep again. Almost.

"I know, Eiji. Oh, there he is. Echizen, it's time to wake up." The teen turned his head slightly to glare at the two figures.

"Che." With that eloquent counter, the hypotensive bum (5) pulled the silvery sheets back over his head.

"Ochibi," Kikumaru scolded. "Don't make me get Fujiko in here."

"I'll get up." He could remember the scene on the balcony last night with painful clarity, despite his sleep-muddled mind. Why was seeing Fuji without a shirt so uncomfortable? He had changed in the same room as the guy every day in middle school. Either way, he wouldn't have wanted the genius getting him up; no matter what method was used, doubtless it would be unpleasant for him.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes like a cat, the tennis player propped himself up on one elbow. "Get out. I'm getting dressed."

"Roger! Breakfast's in the kitchen!" With that, the couple took their leave.

Rising groggily, Ryoma looked out the… wall. True to Kikumaru's words, the sun shone brightly. No way in hell was he wearing the blazer all day.

Once he was in the bathroom, he washed his face and turned to the closet. Pulling a uniform off its hook, he changed, opting to leave last night's pajamas on his bed.

The dark-haired teen walked downstairs a few minutes later, blazer in his bag, first two buttons on his shirt undone, and tie knotted loosely around his neck. Now, which way was the kitchen? '_Just listen for where the chaos is.'_

His method seemed to work well, as after following a hallway that had shouts echoing off the walls, he found himself in a large, modern kitchen.

Before entering, he had prepared for the worst and got it. Red-brown cabinets, touch-sensitive faucets, granite counters, and a giant eight-burner range. What weird sponsors had his mother been _getting_ him?

Probably didn't matter, with all the big eaters in this house.

Said big eaters were currently munching on a Western breakfast of eggs, toast and bacon. Ew. "That reminds me, where's Kawamura-senpai?" Were the power player here, he could've (and would've) made a Japanese breakfast.

Kikumaru wilted. "Taka-san went to some fancy cooking school, nya. Either he visits or we drop by Kawamura Sushi when we want to see each other."

That explained it. Though things wouldn't be the same without their gentle giant around, it wasn't unexpected. He had been talking about dropping tennis for a while before Ryoma left. "Oh."

Fifteen minutes later, the group walked out of the building, which Ryoma noted was a large brownstone, with most walls taken up by reflective windows. The wall on the other side of the building, where their rooms were, would be completely glass.

En masse, the tennis players started the five-minute walk to the main school, their progress significantly slowed by several of the member's antics. Luckily, no innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire, as Tezuka had all but kicked his team out the doors early.

As he watched Kikumaru nearly glomp/tackle Momo straight into a tree, he heard the _'click click click_' of camera shutters. "Preserving memories," Fuji stated shortly, bringing his eyes away from the Fujifilm FinePix HS20EXR (6) in his hands. "Moreover, while I'm proud that you're scheming, are you _sure_ it'll work? You – we could get in quite a bit of trouble."

Ryoma snorted. "Mada mada dane, Fuji-senpai. It'll work."

"It'll _probably_ work. If it doesn't…" By now, the brunet's eyes were open and a frown was on his face.

"Then I take the fall. Whatever. As they say-" he then switched to his native tongue, knowing the genius next to him would understand. "**Drastic times call for drastic measures.**"

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><p><strong>HOLY SHIT IT'S THE PLOT! Yes, I finally started to get this story's ass in gear. Ryoma, what you be plottin?<strong>

**I know I spent a stupidly long amount of time on his room, but I felt like being descriptive. Live with it. Still, who wouldn't want that room? Floor plan's on devianart, link's on my account, all that good stuff.**

**(1) Remember, they're in Japan. Roman letters = Not Kanji. **

**(2) Momo's weird speech pattern. He'll say something, and then say something **_**slightly**_** different.**

**(3) The chest with his Grand Slam pics. It is also a bookshelf, and using chest all the time is unwieldy.**

**(4) I'm sorry to male readers (if there are any) but fangirls, can anyone honestly say they haven't wanted to see Fuji shirtless (he always dresses so neatly…)? If so, YOU ARE A **_**LIAR **_**(insert GOD DAMNED if you want)!**

**(5) Ouran reference! XD**

**(6) Hahaha get it? Fuji has a Fujifilm camera? … Please don't kill me under a mountain of rotten tomatoes. Anyway, I looked it up, it's an actual camera. Pretty snazzy one, too.**


	6. And I'm Not Afraid To Use It

**Disclaimer:…ah screw it; we all know the whole "Me no own" spiel is in the prologue.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Five: And I'm Not Afraid To Use It

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><p>The former Seigaku Regulars arriving in one's office with scowls on their collective faces was <em>not<em> something one would find pleasant at seven-thirty in the morning.

Such was the principal of Seishun Kokou's discovery. The man was a thin, faint-of-heart sort of person in his late forties, with graying hair and thick glasses.

"Sawada-kouchou. Please excuse the interruption, but we have something to discuss with you before classes start." Captain or not, Tezuka Kunimitsu had a formidable presence. When he was being serious (more so than usual), it could send lesser men running.

Luckily for the principal, another figure came forward. The boy had been obscured due to his (lack of) height and slender frame. Sawada felt a surge of relief, before he noticed the girlish good looks, haughty air, and golden eyes. He had gone from speaking to a scarily emotionless and commanding man to the richest, most famous boy in school. He honestly didn't know which was his preferred option.

"Why are Momo-senpai and Kaidoh-senpai not on the tennis team?" Not one for words, Ryoma had gotten straight to the point.

"W-well, they were causing chaos and potential harm to those around them." The man's response was barely audible, a timid mumble.

"If you're going to lie, put some effort into it. We all know they've always been like that. We also all know that Nishi bribed you. Now, I can either tell the media and the superintendent in a way that will ruin you completely, or I can still tell the media and the superintendent, in a way that will _almost_ ruin you and ruin Nishi completely." The speaker himself was surprised; that had to be the longest speech not (directly) related to tennis he'd ever given. '_Oh, well. I came back to go to Nationals with them, and that's exactly what I'll do.'_

"Are you blackmailing me?" The principal's slightly emboldened voice cut through his thoughts. Responding was unnecessary, though, as their resident expert on all things blackmail had stepped up. The smiling teen couldn't let his Ryo-chan fill up his monthly word-meter in one go, now could he?

"Not at all, Sawada-kouchou. Ryo-chan is simply saying that he'll bring the truth to light no matter what; justice will prevail and all that. No, he's actually helping you. People will find out one way or another about this mess, but he can make it so Nishi is vilified instead of you. You'd just have to fire him and give our friends their rightful spots on the team." That would be Fuji-speak for, "Of course he's blackmailing you. You can give into our demands or face our wrath."

"Yes, o-of course." While Sawada had heard Fuji's actual words, the message had been clear. "Tezuka-san, if you could arrange this with me after classes are over today."

Nodding, the addressed student bowed at the waist. "Understood. We'll be taking our leave."

Departing as one, most of the group visibly relaxed (Kikumaru opted to jump in the air and glomp Oishi) as soon as the door closed.

"Well, that went well." Momo was punching his rival jokingly on the arm, sparking another argument.

"But what if Nishi gets our parents fired because of this?" Oishi (Ryoma had no clue how) was immune to the strong arms wrapping him in a bear hug.

"Simple. When I tell the media, I tell them about his threats, too, so people are going to know he did it if something happens to them. And that's assuming I wouldn't be able to back you guys." The baby of the group yawned as he spoke, regretting getting up so early; talking to Sawada hadn't needed the time they thought it would. He was most definitely sleeping through English, and possibly Japanese and math after that.

"Unyah? Ochibi, what's that behind your ear?" Ryoma froze. '_Oh, no._'

_Flashback_

_Echizen Ryoma stared at himself in the mirror. _

_It was the middle of July and sunny out. Logically, he wouldn't wear his blazer and have at _least _two buttons undone. Following that train of thought, he'd been more thorough when tying his hair up._

_Instead of a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck like yesterday, he'd pulled all the hair he could into the style used in tennis matches, atop his head. This meant most of his side bangs were pulled back as well. Which meant people would be able to see _that.

_Echizen Ryoma glared at himself in the mirror._

_Flashback End_

"It's nothing," Ryoma replied, desperately hoping that someone would change the subject.

"Unyaaah! Oishi, Ochibi got a tattoo! Why?" Sure enough, a square inch of skin between the back of his left ear and corner of his jaw was occupied by the kanji for "Rain."

"Ryo-chan, why did you get a tattoo? It makes you look like a thug." Fuji's voice was dangerously playful, suggesting that he wanted a good answer.

"I told you, it's nothing. I lost a bet." _That_ had been embarrassing. Kevin had bet Ryoma that he would face Rafael Nadal in the French Open finals last year and beat him four sets to one, Ryoma let his pride take over and bet that Nadal wouldn't get a full set (1).

"Hm." Fuji seemed like he was going to press the issue, but Ryoma was quite literally saved by the bell.

"Oh, sorry senpai-tachi. I have class." Bolting towards the first year's hallway to escape the brunet's glare, the freshman only really relaxed when he sat down in class 1-A.

Setting a notebook and pencil in front of him to keep up appearances, the narcoleptic student put his head on his arms (tattoo facing _down_).

He was drifting into a pleasant doze when-

"Ryo-kun? Are you alright?" That irritating, simpering voice broke the heady silence. Suppose he ignored her, would she go away? Ryoma didn't sense movement near him, and decided to change tactics. Tsukiko was suddenly faced with glaring gold eyes.

"Oh, you were just sleepy. Sorry for waking you." She giggled, as if interrupting _his_ precious sleeping time was funny. "Since you're awake, I wanted to ask you something. I'm in the art club and there's a little showcase after class today. I'd love for you to come."

Was the girl being idiotically tactless on purpose? If so, she was doing splendidly. "No."

"If it's about tennis, the showcase doesn't start until later, so I could watch your practice and then we could go together." Contrary to popular belief, Ryoma knew when someone was asking him out. Actually, while he had no experience with relationships, he had honed his rejection skills to an art. It was inevitable, with girls (and the occasional boy) professing their love to him left and right (2).

"I've got something going on today." Not deigning to elaborate, the Prince laid back down.

"Oh… Next time, then." The brunette looked crestfallen, though Ryoma remained apathetic.

'_Don't hold your breath,_' he thought as Ayaka-sensei started class.

~X~

"Well, Kunimitsu, how'd it go?" the prodigy asked, walking up to his best friend as the day's last bell rang.

"Nishi-sensei was fired earlier today, and I've contacted Echizen and gave permission to circulate the pro-Sawada story to the media. Momo and Kaidoh have been allowed back on the team, but we have to deal with Nishi-san and the others on our own." Tezuka was, to the few that could see the miniscule changes in his facial expression, pleased. The meeting with Sawada had gone well, as the man seemed to be intimidated by him.

Fuji chuckled. "It looks like the school system can actually accomplish something when… _motivated_."

Fingers twitching for the aspirin in his pocket, the stoic brunet decided the minor headache Fuji brought was nothing compared to what he'd have to deal with at practice. Not to mention it would look strange if he started swallowing pills in the middle of the hall.

"Aa. Now, come on. We have to tell Momo and Kaidoh that they've got practice." The two walked towards the stairs leading to the second year's hallway.

"Ne, Kunimitsu, Ryo-chan coming back really was a good thing, huh?" The shorter of the two said in a soft voice, eyes open. The gentle look in those orbs of blue was not lost on Tezuka.

"Aa."

~X~

"What was that? It was your damn fault in the first place, Mamushi!"

Ryoma looked up as the locker room's door slammed open. The two juniors were next two each other, glaring daggers. It was clear they were, once again, an inch from starting an all-out brawl. "Heeh… Didn't know you two were so eager to get kicked out again," he said with a smirk.

"Not now, Echizen!" Momo yelled over his shoulder.

"Momo. Kaidoh. Change, then give me thirty laps." It was only then that the boy noticed his two senpai had two _more _senpai standing behind them.

"H-hai." Momo cowed.

"Tezuka, we still haven't voted on the new captain and vice captain, you can't assign them laps yet." Fuji joked, stepping into the locker room.

"Oi, Fuji, Tezuka! What're these two losers doing back here?" Nishi, hearing the commotion, had walked in to find almost all of the Seigaku Regulars gathered in the room.

"Oh, you're still here?" Fuji inquired, tilting his head in (mock) innocence. "Your father was fired for bribery earlier today. It should be in the paper tomorrow. Also, Sawada-kouchou gave Momo-chan and Kaidoh their spots back. We're having an impromptu ranking tournament today and voting on who's going to be captain and vice captain. You know, just to make sure your father played no unfair part in things."

"That's ridiculous! What do mean the old man was fired? And are you saying I didn't earn my place as captain?"

"I meant what I said, and no, not at all. I have no doubts that our earlier selections were _completely_ legitimate." The prodigy's eyes opened, piercing into Nishi's and joining the glares of the other four.

"Tch. Whatever. We already earned those spots once, it won't be hard to do it twice." With that, the pale teen stomped away.

"Ne, Buchou. Can you put me in a ranking block with that guy?" Ryoma's childish voice broke the silence. The teen was staring intensely at the door, already planning how to make Nishi eat his words.

"The groups are already set. You'll have to go find out." The words immediately sent the boy out the door, tugging on his white hat.

The others soon followed, Momo joking loudly ("Why couldn't you've put the selections off a bit? I wanted to make the brat act like a first year for once!"). At the bulletin boards, they joined Inui, Oishi, Kikumaru, and Ryoma.

"Damn. I'm not in a block with that Nishi guy."

"Mou, Ochibi! You sound like you're not happy to be facing me!" The team's resident carrot-top was immediately in the bishounen's face, purple eyes blinking twice.

"Che." With that, the short teen spun around (his ponytail nearly whacking Kikumaru in the face) and walked off.

Oishi laughed a bit, trying to stop his boyfriend's sulking. "It looks like Echizen really hasn't changed in two years.

"Saa… Tezuka, you didn't put me in a block with my Ryoma-chan?" The prodigy's question was put forth jokingly, but he was still a bit upset.

"80% chance he thinks doing so would call down a freak rainstorm but will never admit to that." Inui stated matter-of-factly, snapping his notebook shut. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go get Inui Hyper Remix Juice Version 12.5 for those who don't win any of their matches."

Faces turned blue, tennis players froze, and silence fell on the little complex. Due to Nishi's hatred of the vile juices, he had banned Inui from using them. It was possibly the only good thing he'd ever done from the club, but now he was gone and the data man was eager to "motivate them and help build up their bodies."

At the mention of the drinks he (luckily) hadn't been within 100 miles of for two years, Ryoma's Pinnacle of Hard Work activated without him even noticing. The third year he was warming up with _definitely _noticed, though. Poor guy.

'_I'm winning no matter what!'_

From here on out, it would be war on the tennis courts, and pity those unfortunate enough to face a Regular.

Kikumaru, Echizen. Block A.

Fuji, Oishi. Block B.

Tezuka, Kaidoh. Block C.

Inui, Momo. Block D.

Now that Nishi wasn't around to let his son and son's friends on the team, everyone could see the eight that would make the cut. Nonetheless, if they could manage to take just _one _match, against anyone, they wouldn't have to drink…

The giant glass mug in Inui's hand, which was currently shifting between the colors of the rainbow and spitting sparks in various (unnatural) colors. "I've been working the past few months. It's very good for stamina and overall muscle strength," stated the tall man with a maniacal grin.

~X~

"Sorry Ochibi, but Inui promised a shot glass of that gunk to the loser in a match between us old Regulars! I'm going all out."

Ryoma's only response was a strong flare of aura. When he next looked at the acrobat, his hair was a spiked up, luminous green, matching his glowing emerald eyes.

"Unyah?"

"Best of one set match, Echizen to serve," called out the referee.

_Bang._

No one had seen a thing, but the tennis ball that had once been nestled in the young pro's hand was now rolling lazily around Kikumaru's side of the court.

"Ne, Kikumaru-senpai. Is tennis… fun?" inquired Ryoma with a small, genuine smile.

"Ref! Tell Ochibi to stop abusing his power, nya!" Kikumaru was indignant at being faced with the power he'd only ever admired (from safely off court).

"K-Kikumaru-san, I can't do that. It's fair," replied the sheepish third year.

"But it's the Pinnacle of freaking _Perfection_! I've got some of the best eyes in school and I didn't see a thing. Ochibi's so mean!"

"Gomen, but I'm not drinking that thing, Kikumaru-senpai," Ryoma replied calmly. "Ref, you going to call that?"

"15-Love."

"Yosh. I've got to beat this thing. I'm _not _drinking that." The redhead muttered to himself, a sharp look coming into his eyes.

Despite his best efforts throughout the match, if he couldn't see a ball, he couldn't return it. And so, twenty-five minutes later, the call rang out. "Game and match to Echizen, six games to love."

Sighing in relief and releasing the Pinnacle of Perfection, Ryoma smirked. "Too bad, so sad, better luck next week, Kikumaru-senpai."

"O-chi-bi! I'll get you for this! Be prepared to 'accidently' get Fujiko's weirdo food tonight!" The redhead was seething, more at the use of his catchphrase than his loss.

"That won't be necessary, Kikumaru. Echizen, you'll be taking the shot for using your Pinnacle against a teammate in a match you probably could've won anyways. It's just unsporting." The effeminate boy twitched and turned around. The ever tall, dark, and creepy Inui stood behind him, holding a deceptively small shot glass of Version 12.5. '_He doesn't honestly want to spite me for beating him two years ago, does he?'_

"The ref said it was legal," he deadpanned, determined not to panic.

"Oh? You're conscious when you play in the Pinnacle of Perfection? Ii data. Either way, the Pinnacle is for emergencies, which this was not, and you can't let yourself be reliant on it." The last bit was meant to play on Ryoma's pride, and it did so wonderfully.

"Che. I can do just fine without it." With that, he took the shot glass from Inui's hand. Attempting to stare at the unnatural drink instead of Kikumaru (who was sticking his out tongue at him) was rather trying. '_Well, only one way to end it.'_

Swallowing his fear, Ryoma quickly drew the little cup to his lips, downing all the liquid inside in one gulp.

He was unconscious before his body hit the ground.

~X~

"Well, that wasn't surprising. All of the old crew made it into the Regulars." Fuji was looking over Tezuka's shoulder, eyes scanning over the gridded paper.

"I'm glad," came the monotone reply.

The prodigy nearly purred in contentment. "It seems Nishi, Gorou, Kazuya, and Aoiyama weren't too keen on staying in the club after their… losses." Fuji-speak for, '_after we crushed them._'

"There is a 99.6% chance that we'll be able to assume practice as usual tomorrow with them gone." Inui had appeared, a slightly nauseated Kikumaru trailing behind him. That was all well and good, if it weren't for the petite frame slung over the tall man's shoulder.

"Inui, what did you do to my Ryo-chan?"

"100% chance he would be protesting you calling him that were he awake, and 94.8% chance that you're ready to wring my neck."

Fuji said nothing in reply, but the unusual frown on his face was confirmation enough. "Kikumaru, could you please go get a golf cart from the custodians? I'm sure they have an extra and Inui probably _doesn't want_ to carry Ryo-chan the whole way." Sometimes it was truly incredible how many hidden meanings the brunet could lace into his words.

"Y-yeah… I'll be right back." With that, the cat-boy bolted, in such a hurry to be away from the tense atmosphere that a few copies ran in his wake.

The genius himself was surprised; shouldn't he be enjoying this? '_So why have I been paying so much attention to him, and been so… protective? It must be that someone else was teasing Ryo-chan. That must be it…' _He looked over to where Inui was placing the boy's limp form down on a chair. '_Or maybe it's because I-_' A pair of eyelids opened halfway. '_I suppose so. That has to be it. How interesting _(3).' Fuji laughed quietly at his discovery.

At the sound of screeching tires, the prodigy looked up. A golf cart was speeding towards them, Kikumaru predictably behind the wheel. "Fujiko, I got it, nya! We just have to give it back to the staff once we drive Ochibi over!"

"Ah. Thank you, Eiji. I'll go with him and get him in bed. I doubt he'll be able to wake up before morning after drinking _that_." Over the past two years, Inui had mixed up one or two juices that could even knock him out. It wasn't as if he feared Inui Juices, he had just learned to be wary of the ones with more eccentric colors.

Fuji walked over to the chair that Ryoma slept in and picked the boy up bridal-style. "You'd think he'd be a bit heavier, seeing as he's an athlete (4)," the prodigy murmured.

"Hop in, nya! Okay, we're off!" The cart shot away and began down the path to dorm T-V-1. Kikumaru started chatting animatedly, relying on his memories and reflexes to keep them from crashing. The brunet beside him simply smiled, nodding and humming occasionally. On the outside.

On the inside, Fuji was thinking over his epiphany, confirming it and nurturing the feelings that had surged through him once he had. One arm snaked around Ryoma's thin waist, keeping the teen from falling off the dangerously swaying cart.

When they arrived, Fuji picked up the dark haired boy beside him once more. '_He looks so much… younger asleep. Much more sweet and innocent._'

As Eiji sped off, in a hurry to return the cart and still walk back with everyone, the older of the two bishounens opened the dorm's front door. He kicked his shoes off in the mudroom and calmly walked towards the stairs, where Ryoma's room lay. '_It's rather strange for everything to be so quiet and calm in here. Usually I'd need to commandeer Tezuka's Quiet Room to get privacy here. Huhuhu…' _he laughed quietly, the bell-like sound penetrating the building's strange silence.

"Good thing he didn't bother locking his room," Fuji stated cheerily, stepping through the threshold. '_Wait. Did I just carry someone, bridal style no less, over a- how coincidental.' _Almost laughing at what his recent actions signified, he gently laid Ryoma under the covers of his unmade bed, tucking him in afterwards.

Seeing the calligraphy tattoo on the boy's pale neck, he acted on the spur of the moment. Chestnut hair gleamed in the late afternoon sun as he swept down, planting a light, chaste kiss on the dyed skin. "Sleep well, Ryo-chan," he murmured.

* * *

><p><strong>BWAHAHAHA! FINALLY! SOME FANSERVICE! Am I right? I'm also "BWAHAHAHA" ing at the fact that this chappie is finally D-O-N-E! It took soo looong!<strong>

**I posted this in a rush, so I forgot to initially add this. There were some mix ups in the way that I posted a few earlier chapters, but I fixed them the other day. Thank you to those who pointed them out (and bigbigbigbigbigggg thanks to ALL reviewers; I love you to death!)**

**Yes, I know Fuji switches between calling him Tezuka and Kunimitsu, but I think (correct me if I'm wrong) that he switches names in the canon, too.**

**(1) A set is six games (you know in the canon, they say "one set match"). In official men's tennis matches, they play five sets, best of three winning.**

**(2) Okay all you skeptics out there, Ryoma's been abroad for two years and is used to fangirls. He just doesn't know when he himself is interested in someone (and doesn't suspect Fuji because Fuji's always like that). Even in the canon, he could recognize a date between Momo and Ann.**

**(3) If anyone can't even **_**guess**_** what Fuji figured out, **_**especially**_** if you've read the end of this chapter, go smack yourself or stand in the proverbial corner or something (Oo, or no updates for a month! *evil laugh*)**

**(4) Ryoma isn't ripped or anything, but he's a professional athlete. He's bound to ****have muscles. Just think wiry muscles.**


	7. Let the Games Begin

**I kind of rushed through the whole Nishi conflict, but eh, whatever. He'll pop up again eventually. On wit da chapter!**

* * *

><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Six: Let the Games Begin

* * *

><p>~One Month Later~<p>

The boisterous talking ceased as the Seishun Kokou Tennis Club entered the tournament grounds. The number one seeded team in the Tokyo Prefecture and number two in the nation was not to be ignored, after all.

Of course, there are always a few idiots in any crowd.

"Oi, Seigaku! Where's your captain? He and Aioyama ditch you?"

"Ichi, come see this! They let a girl on the team (1)!"

"Kageyama Kokou, I would appreciate it if you did not harass my players." Tezuka stepped in, seeing Ryoma twitching dangerously at the 'girl' comment. The team, and the school, had learned that it was a sore spot for him, bordering on a complex.

"What was that? But she's so pretty!" the tanned teenager in front of their team's baby crooned. He reached out to grab the short, incredibly miffed boy's chin, but was stopped by a thin hand grabbing his wrist. Looking over at the person connected to the hand, he was met with the clear blue that could only belong to one person; Seishun's resident genius, 'Tensai Fuji Syuusuke.'

"I believe Tezuka told you to leave our players alone, Aoiyama-san. And your cousin did not 'ditch' us, he quit the team along with Gorou and Nishi when they did not get into the Regulars."

"Can't have been a fair selection, then. And who's she to you, your girlfriend?" This Aoiyama was nothing like his cousin, with short orange hair and brown eyes.

This was the cause of small outbursts of laughter throughout the Regulars and those who had come to simply watch their school's matches, including Fuji himself. "Who knows…" he murmured, unheard by anyone. "But that's impossible, I'm afraid. Ryo-chan isn't a girl. Have you ever heard of Echizen Ryoma?"

"A few times, yeah. What's it to… no way! That's totally impossible." However, by mentioning the words 'Echizen Ryoma' in the middle of a tennis tournament, Fuji had opened the gates to Hell.

As murmurs, and eventually squeals and shrieks broke out, a crowd soon surrounded Ryoma, to his irritation. At the first camera flash, he turned to Tezuka. "That's it. Can we go now? Before the media gets here…" It would appear his face and return to Japan would be plastered all over the tabloids tomorrow.

"Aa. We do still need to register. Kageyama, we'll see you in the first round." The tall brunet didn't even get a response, as they had stunned into silence at all the fans trying to get a glimpse of Ryoma.

"Seishun Kokou, here with eight members." The captain stated as he handed the man a piece of paper.

"Ah. Good luck today- Echizen Ryoma!" The man himself was an avid tennis fan, and was now wondering if he had really seen the Prince's name on Seishun's registry list.

"What?" A bored voice that was far too high to be coming from a high school student's mouth piped up to his left. There stood Samurai Junior himself, wearing the blue and white Seishun uniform and sipping a grape Ponta.

"N-nothing…" the man trailed off weakly. '_Must be the heat, must be the heat, must be the heat.' _After composing himself a bit with this, he looked back at the team's captain. "Anyway, you're all set. Good luck."

"Denial is a wonderful thing, ne, Inui?" Fuji asked merrily, having seen the man's thoughts practically writing themselves down on his face.

"Mm. I'm getting some very good data from this. It appears that everyone, especially at a tennis tournament, knows Echizen's name, if not his face. We've been living at school and he tries to go unnoticed if he's ever in public on the weekends, so I haven't been able to see people's reaction to him or his to them." The man's pencil flew across the surface of his infamous green notebook.

"Looks like he doesn't like them," the prodigy replied cheerily, throwing an arm around Ryoma's shoulders.

"Please let go, Fuji-senpai," he deadpanned, sadly used to this by now. Over the past month, Fuji had been spending an inordinate amount of time around him, going so far as to pick him up from class a few times and joining him at lunch on the roof on occasion.

"But you're so cute, Ryo-chan!" Fuji had also grown very attached to the nickname, to Ryoma's dismay.

"Don't call me that," the teen retorted. While he knew it was useless, it was a knee-jerk response.

"Fuji-senpai, Echizen, come on! Buchou told you to get moving!" Momo yelled out over his shoulder. "And can you drop the fangirls, Echizen? We need to warm up!"

"Coming," Ryoma shouted back. The two set off, one smiling serenely and the other scowling slightly at the disturbance his appearance was causing. "Che. Why's everyone care so much?" he muttered, the question a bit rhetorical.

"Because you're so gorgeous, Ryo-chan," the brunet beside him replied merrily, to which Ryoma snorted. "No, I'm serious. You're _really_ something to look at."

"Even if you _were_ serious, no one would be able to tell."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Fuji, Echizen, can you get over here? We're greeting the other team!" Oishi called from the benches that the rest of the Regulars had left their bags on.

"Hai, hai. Ne, Oishi, isn't our first opponent Kageyama?" Fuji inquired as he set down his bag softly. There _was _damning evidence that he was agitated, though. Instead of his usual little smile, his face was set in a determinedly neutral expression. First impressions were lasting ones, and Fuji Syuusuke's first impression of Kageyama High was _not _an endearing one.

"Aa. They're an unseeded school, though. A bit of a dark horse."

"Hmm…" The three now walked over to their teammates, about to line up at the net for the traditional exchange of greetings.

"Welcome to the Tokyo Prefectural games semifinals between Kageyama Kokou and Seishun Kokou." The referee announced for the players and the audience to hear.

"Let's have a good match." The sixteen players chanted, bowing simultaneously.

After the captains shook hands and both teams returned to their respective benches, Tezuka cleared his throat, bringing instant silence. "The lineup for today will be: Doubles Two, Inui and Kaidoh; Doubles One, Kikumaru and Oishi; Singles Three, Echizen; Singles Two, Momo; Singles One, Fuji. Echizen, I want this round to be ours by the end of your match."

"Gotcha." Ryoma was lolled on a bench, sipping Ponta and leaning on his bag.

Tezuka turned from the lazy teen as another announcement rang out across the courts. "We will now be starting Doubles Two, Kageyama Kokou's Akira/Michi pair versus Seishun Kokou's Inui/Kaidoh pair. Both teams please send your players out."

"Kaidoh, let's go." Inui stood, racquet in one hand.

"Fssshhhhh." The two walked out to the net to shake hands with their opponents. On the opposite court, Akira and Michi were looking more than a little nervous.

"Let's have a good match, ne?" Inui asked innocently, though the effect was ruined with Kaidoh staring the two down.

"Aa. We'll do our best," replied Akira. It seemed as though not everyone on Kageyama's team was like the captain, Ichi, and Aoiyama. The brunet across the net and his blond partner didn't act antagonistic at all, if anything, they looked at their opponents with a respect that bordered on reverence.

"Best of one set match, Seishun's Inui to serve (2)."

The tall Seishun player's glasses glinted mischievously. "Waterfall."

~X~

"Game and match, to Seishun's Inui/Kaidoh pair. Six games to one!"

"Hmm… Not bad. Kaidoh-senpai and Inui-senpai have gotten better over the years," Ryoma commented lazily. Waterfall was even faster, and Kaidoh had come up with even more snake related shots. Even Ryoma was impressed at his newest addition, the Black Mamba. This shot imitated the venomous snake for which it was named, skidding along the ground in a wave pattern in place of a bounce.

"Congratulations, nya! Oishi! Come on, it's our turn (3)!" The Golden Pair rose and stepped on court to wild applause.

~X~

"That's Oishi Territory, right? They still use that?" Half an hour later, Seishun had reached match point once more. Kageyama's side had the serve, but in the brief interval between rallies, Oishi had moved to the front. Kikumaru was in the back and receiving what would probably be the last serve of the match.

Ryoma's question was posed as he returned from his warm-up jog. "Mm-hm," Fuji handed the teen a water bottle as he nodded. "But Eiji came up with a little something to make it even more effective a few months ago."

As he spoke, Kageyama's player sent the ball hurtling across the net, only to be received by the waiting redhead. The moment the ball left Kikumaru's racquet, however, four more of him appeared to either side, mimicking his movements. A total of five acrobats lined the baseline, all being flamboyant in one way or another. Kikumaru hadn't used his Seal Step at all in the match, and at the sight of six players across from them, the Kageyama players were stunned. Stunned enough to hit a lob, in fact.

"Kikumaru Hyper Beam!" the five redheads shouted, rejoining midair and driving the ball back into the court.

"Game and match, to Seishun's Kikumaru/Oishi pair. Six games to love!"

"Bui!" Kikumaru stuck his tongue out, flashing a 'V' sign with his fingers.

The two walked towards their team, the cat-boy chattering away happily to his partner. "Ochibi! Good luck, 'kay?"

Ryoma, busy threading his ponytail through the gap in his hat's back, merely grunted in acknowledgement. Grabbing his favorite red racquet, he approached the net and (hesitantly) shook hands with his opponent, who was coincidentally Aoiyama.

"You really do look like a girl. A pretty one, too," the taller player commented.

Ryoma snorted. "What, you swing that way?" With that, he walked to the base line, leaving a spluttering Aoiyama in his wake.

"Isn't that Echizen Ryoma?"

"What's he doing _here_?"

"Yeah, sis? It's me, call Mom and Dad, you'll never guess who's here!"

"So this is where he went off to…"

"Kyaaaaaa! Echizen-sama!"

"Ryoma-kun, look over here!"

A massive crowd soon formed around the courts rumors running wild, cameras flashing, and girls screaming. "Che. Now it's going to turn into a media circus before this match is even done." The ex-pro scowled at the commotion and took his hostility out on the ball.

"**Flash,**" mumbled Ryoma in English. There was a loud, '_slam_' as a tennis ball rebounded off the wall behind Aoiyama.

"…T-this is incredible. That serve was on the level of the Pinnacle of Perfection displayed two years ago at Nationals, but as far as the data shows, this is the normal Echizen we're seeing," Inui said scribbling in his notebook.

A feminine laugh chimed behind them. "It would appear I need to work harder, Echizen-kun's gotten quite good."

"Sadaharu, that serve is the fastest in the world, only not at its top speed. I gunned it at 267 kilometers per hour, though Echizen-san's record is 279 when using his Pinnacle."

Behind them stood the Emperors of Rikkai in all their glory, the Three Demons leading them. "Renji. Scoping out the competition, are we?"

"We learned the hard way two years ago to not underestimate your team, Doctor." Replied the tall brunet.

"Mm. I'll take that as a compliment, Professor." Throughout the conversation, the bangs of tennis balls provided background noise. Ryoma had continued to destroy his opponent through use of simple brute force and speed.

"My, my. His performance is much more impressive live than on television, ne, Genichirou?" The captain of Rikkai's gentle voice rang out once more.

"Saa… You've seen Ryo-chan's matches on TV?" inquired Fuji. His gentle smile mirrored the one Yukimura wore, but his eyes were open and glinting dangerously.

"We wouldn't be very devoted tennis players if we didn't watch the Grand Slam finals, would we, Fuji-san?" If Ryoma had been added to this conversation, it would've been the ultimate bishounen showdown.

Rikkai's captain leaned in, whispering something only Fuji could hear. "No need to be so protective, Fuji-san, he's all yours. Genichirou and I are already an item."

The genius hummed in reply. "So that's it… That's good."

"Game to Echizen, two games to love."

"Oh? When did the second game start?" Yukimura seemed highly surprised, yet amused. "Echizen-kun really wants to finish this guy."

Aoiyama had yet to score a point, and Ryoma had been crushing him with return aces. Now, he returned to his high-speed serves. Anyone could predict the outcome of this match.

"So it would seem. This'll be over in ten minutes." Fuji laughed as he spoke. This was only to be expected of a peeved Ryoma.

The teams sat (or stood) in silence for the next few minutes, their respective data masters occasionally trading information. Seishun's rookie was destroying Aoiyama quickly and efficiently, leaving no room for error. There wasn't even anything fancy about his playing; the carrot-top across the net from him just wasn't fast enough to return his shots. Soon, the match was over, six games to love.

"Mada mada dane," the short teen taunted, smirking.

Ryoma calmly walked over to his team, grabbing a Ponta from next to his bag and putting away his racquet. "Ara? Ryo-chan, you've got some visitors," Fuji commented, indicating the mob of reporters waiting outside the fences lining the courts.

"They're here already? Damn. I wanted to finish the match and leave before that happened." His scathing words were accompanied by a scowl. Alongside fans, the media was one of the most annoying things about professional tennis.

"Echizen-san, was this the reason you left the spotlight?"

"Echizen-san, turn this way please!"

"Echizen-san, did you leave public view of your own free will?"

"No comment, all of you," the star deadpanned.

"Yo, Echizen, come on! They're about to do the closing ceremony!" Momo put Ryoma (who had no doubt become his charge under Tezuka's orders) in a headlock; the boy was still several inches shorter than him and everyone else on the team.

"O-chi-bi! Stop talking to the press, we got to go!" Each of his two upperclassmen grabbing an arm and waving to the reporters, Ryoma was dragged off to center court.

"For winning three matches to zero, Seishun Kokou will advance to the Tokyo Prefectural Finals two days from now."

"Thank you for the match!" the players chanted, before walking back to the benches to retrieve their belongings.

"Eh? Echizen, you see what you do? How the hell are we supposed to get through this swarm?" Momo asked exasperatedly, smacking his own forehead.

"Here, Momo. Like this. Listen, minna-san! If you let everyone through without being pushy, Ochibi here will answer two questions, but if he won't and we will if we can!" During the latter part of his announcement, Kikumaru had bodily lifted his junior into the air.

"Wha- Don't decide things on your own, Kikumaru-senpai!" The dark-haired boy wriggled, trying to get free and safely on the ground again.

"Maa, maa, Ochibi. It's your fault, so take responsibility," the redhead chided as he set Ryoma down. "Okay, umm… eenie, meanie, minie, you!" he said, pointing to a blonde reporter.

"Echizen-san, did you leave as you were too stressed in the pro circuits?" she inquired.

"No. It's just boring there."

Before she could open her mouth again, Oishi interrupted. "One more question. You, with the red tie." He indicated none other than Inoue Mamoru, from Monthly Pro Tennis.

'_Very clever, Oishi. By picking someone Ryo-chan knows personally, you can be sure the question won't be intrusive or offensive.'_ Fuji thought, giggling a bit and earning strange looks.

"Echizen-kun, what do you intend to do now that you're in Japan once more?" the man asked, gesturing to the ever faithful Shiba to take pictures.

To that, Ryoma smirked. "Win."

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, you got your pictures and answers, so _if_ you'll excuse us…" the team's acrobat chimed in, making a parting motion with his hands.

The Seishun team took off quickly, hurrying to leave the tournament grounds. No one wanted to be around when the reporters decided they weren't satisfied with two questions. "Did you deal with that often?" Oishi asked Ryoma as they stepped on the street.

"Aa. Pretty much every time I walked out my front door."

"Oh, Tezuka, can we go do the usual? We haven't been there since Ochibi got back!"

"That's fine, just don't break anything like last time. I'm sure he would want to see Echizen," the captain replied.

"Yay! Thank you! Ochibi, come on, we're going this way!" Kikumaru yelled as he and the others turned towards one of Tokyo's shopping districts.

Vaguely recognizing the path that they were taking, Ryoma groaned inwardly. '_They're still doing this after all this time?'_

"From the look on your face, I'd guess you know where we're going." Fuji had magically appeared beside him, smiley as ever. "Your match today was very impressive, Ryo-chan. I believe it was just barely over twenty minutes (4)."

"Domo. That guy was pathetic, though. All talk." Fuji opened his eyes to better observe the teen beside him. The tennis star had let his hair down some time after his match, and it was now glinting and flying lazily in the breeze. The setting sun's light shone directly on his face, giving it a healthy glow. Golden streaks twinkled in otherwise olive eyes, and a slight smile graced pink lips.

'_Beautiful. That really is the only word for him…_' Fuji thought.

The two's moment was interrupted by their catching up with the rest of the group. '_Too bad. I'll have to talk with him later,_' thought the slightly miffed genius, closing his eyes.

The tennis team had stopped in front of a traditional looking building with talking and the smell of Japanese food drifting out. "Everyone here?" Kikumaru inquired. "Good. Now then." He drew a deep breath placing his hands in position to throw aside the two cloths that stood in for a door. "TAKA-SAAAAAAN!"

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I'll be the first to admit I HATE (hatehatehate<strong>_**h-a-t-e)**_** using all caps outside of my A/Ns, however, Kikumaru's lines deserve it. I will try my damndest not to do this again, but italics and normal letters just didn't cut it this time. **

**Yay Rikkai. Who DOESN'T like them?**

**I apologize for not really showing the matches, but I'm not good at writing them, find them boring to read, and am only **_**really **_**comfortable writing Eiji, Fuji, Ryoma, and _maybe_ Tezuka and Momo. In important matches, I might go deeper, but that's only if a good amount of people want me to.**

**I also apologize for school names in this and any chapters to come. I've got no idea if they mean anything, (I **_**think **_**Kageyama would be "shadow mountain") but I need to make up any school that isn't an old face from the canon.**

**(1) Yes, back by popular demand, it's the "Ryoma's a girl" gag.**

**(2) I know I skipped the whole "Which?" "Rough/Smooth" thing, but I just didn't know which side is which. All I could find online was some jargon about the gut strings. If you can tell me in terms of the letter being up or down (yes, I'm that stupid) I'll change it.**

**(3) I am honestly wondering if Kikumaru will ever get an entire paragraph of dialogue that doesn't involve an exclamation point (or the words 'Ochibi' and 'nya').**

**(4) I know Kirihara's record is like, thirteen minutes, but he injured the people and made them quit early. I looked it up, the shortest official tennis match was 32 minutes, so even twenty is pushing it.**

**R-E-V-I-E-W! No one seemed to like the last chapter; I feel unloved! See you next week!**


	8. R and R

**Well, I just noticed that I barely ever do this, but I decided it's time to say "I care." So thank you and I love you, to everyone who's reviewed (especially those who have reviewed most/all of the chapters), put me on their alerts/favorites, and my ever awesome beta Self... sometimes the list of mistakes he sends back to me is frightening. Anyway, I can't even say how happy I am that my baby's doing well! I currently have a little something called "NO FREAKING TIME" thanks to my school and sports, but because of you guys, I'll keep this (meaning the punctual updates) going. Now, without further ado...**

* * *

><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Seven: R and R

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><p>"Kampai!"<p>

The cheer echoed through Kawamura Sushi, surprising the other customers. The source was a large table full of good-looking high school boys, glasses in the air.

At the table, Momo and Ryoma were already having an eating contest, complaining (loudly on Momo's part) about how the other had stolen their food. Kikumaru looked like he was on the verge of jumping in and competing with them.

Fuji was laughing at the scene next to Tezuka, whose fingers were once again twitching for an aspirin. Kaidoh simply sat off to the side, eating and throwing the occasional antagonizing comment Momo's direction. And of course, Inui was writing something in _the_ notebook.

"Taka-san, why don't you come over and eat with us? You haven't seen Echizen in a while," Oishi said as he looked fondly over his team.

"I'd like to, but Pops (1) needs my help, we're busy tonight…" Kawamura looked extremely sheepish, rubbing the back of his head.

"It's fine, Takeshi. They don't stop by often and your friends are the _reason_ that we're busy," called Kawamura's father from where he was cutting ingredients. "Go ahead."

"Ah, thanks." With that, Kawamura walked from behind the counter to join his old team. "Echizen, it's good to see you again. How've you been doing? I saw your matches over the last two years, and they were really great."

"Mm. Thanks, Kawamura-senpai. Not much fun in the pros, though," the teen replied, sipping a Ponta.

"Oi, Echizen! You can't suddenly drop out like that, you just can't!" Momo yelled through a mouthful of sushi.

"Che. I'm way ahead of you, I can stop for a second if I want."

"What was that, brat?"

"Hoi, hoi, hoi. Calm down, everyone, before we break something and Ochibi has to pay for it." Kikumaru began implementing his own mediation techniques, consisting of a large amount of 'tone it down' gestures. "Ne, ne, Taka-san! We don't have school tomorrow because of some staff conference, can we come see you guys in the afternoon?"

"You guys?" Ryoma asked, perplexed. He was pretty sure there was only _one_ Kawamura-senpai, unless the redhead was talking about the Kawamura family as a whole.

"Mm. Every now and then if school lets out early or we don't have club activities, we'll go see Taka-san and his friends," Fuji stated, contentedly munching on his wasabi sushi.

"Sou da! And since we go later in the afternoon, their classes have ended and they're working on their cooking, nya!" Kikumaru was nearly bursting at the memory of all the good food Kawamura and his classmates had let them sample.

"Hm. Doesn't sound bad." Ryoma turned back to his food, fully prepared to give Momo a thrashing; he was still starving.

~X~

Water droplets plinked against the tiled floor as Ryoma toweled off his hair. Pulling on a pair of shorts (not bothering with a shirt), he draped the towel over his shoulders and stepped into his bedroom.

Literally falling into bed and snuggling up under the covers, his golden eyes fell on the picture taken on top of that mountain two years ago. Looking at the faces, he contemplated how they had all changed since then.

Momo looked exactly the same, other than his height. Actually, all of the Regulars had grown at least an inch or two, whereas Ryoma had grown three, now standing at five feet even. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to catch up to anyone, even Kikumaru and Fuji.

Kaidoh was now taller than Oishi and Kawamura, and had taken to wearing a black bandana with light blue decorations. He also had the most bulging muscles on the team, as Kawamura had dropped tennis for cooking.

Inui was still the tallest of all of them, and the only change in him seemed to be that he had replaced his glasses with a more modern version, still rectangular and opaque, but lined in thin silver. He'd also expanded to concocting various toxic foods as well as juices, which Ryoma had learned in the most painful way.

Kikumaru had… not changed in the slightest. The little white bandage still rested on his jaw line and his hair still defied gravity.

Oishi, on the other hand, had discarded his bowling ball hairstyle, and it now loosely resembled Kawamura's. He also needed contacts, but occasionally wore oval shaped glasses.

Kawamura now sported a few more scars on his hands, a result of training with knives, and had shaved his sideburns. Despite his face losing some of its more childish features, the teen still maintained his kind demeanor.

Tezuka seemed to have reached full maturity in middle school, and his only change had been the gaining of two inches.

Then, there was Fuji. The prodigy had done the impossible in that he was even _more _effeminate now, and the only thing stopping everyone from assuming he was a girl was his hair, still the same as in middle school. Were it to grow to Ryoma's length, no doubt Fuji would know what it's like to be the dark haired teen, with everyone he meets calling him 'Miss.' The genius seemed to open his eyes more now, especially around the youngest member of Seishun.

'_He also talks to me a lot more… I guess I don't mind it _that_ much, though, even if it's a little weird. Fuji's actually not too bad to be around- what am I saying? He's a freaking sadist! But he doesn't really act like one… Whatever, I'm not thinking about this now._

Rolling over onto his side and staring out of the wall, (2) Ryoma reached an overall conclusion. '_Senpai-tachi really haven't changed much…'_

~X~

_Bang._

"Ochibi! Explain yourself!"

"What? Goddamn it! Every freaking morning! Get out, we don't even have school today, Kikumaru-senpai!" Ryoma rubbed his eyes as he yelled, trying to dispel the sleepy haze that covered his vision. True, he was used to a rude awakening, but Kikumaru always left him alone on days that they didn't have school. Being woken up at seven-thirty to Kikumaru's dulcet tones was _not_ how he'd planned to start his day, and as such, the tennis star was royally pissed.

"We don't have school, but we do have _them_, nya. Look outside your window!" exclaimed the redhead, pointing towards the large glass panes.

A crowd full of reporters waited outside their dorm, cameras flashing and, in a few cases, newscasters speaking into microphones. "Che. How'd they even find out where I live?" This was why he barely told _anyone_ that he was coming home. It was just like the paparazzi to track down the school whose uniform he'd been wearing yesterday and actually figure out the building he lived in.

"I'd be more worried how they got on campus. The school grounds aren't exactly open to the public," Inui commented, appearing in Ryoma's doorway.

"These people aren't normal, Inui-senpai." Walking to his bathroom as he spoke, the teen grabbed a shirt from the closet and threw it on. "I'm going to talk to them, and if they don't leave, I'm calling the cops." With that, the fuming boy stormed out.

"Ochibi's scary in the morning…"

"Aa. Ii data."

~X~

Fixing on the cockiest better-than-thou smirk in his arsenal, a small teenager stepped outside his dorm and faced the massive crowd of reporters waiting there. "Heeh… Don't you people have something better to do than stalking some student?"

"Echizen-san!"

"Echizen-san!"

"Echizen-san!"

"Echizen-san!"

Ryoma couldn't hear the questions that followed his name, as there were too many voices. He simply leaned against the doorway until the frenzy had calmed down enough for him to speak. "I'm saying this _once._ I came back here to win Nationals with my team. No comment to any other questions. Now, you all have five minutes to leave my school or I'm calling the cops. Ja ne." Turning on his heel, the star walked back inside.

Not even noticing the chaos outside, the dark haired boy strode down the hallway to the kitchen. "Sorry, Buchou. They should be gone soon, and if they're not, you can call the cops."

Walking into the dining room and noticing the lack of Japanese food on the table, (again) Ryoma groaned and walked to the cabinet where the cooking utensils lay. In a matter of minutes, he returned to the rest of the team with rice, grilled fish, and some fruit in hand. "Eh? Echizen, you can cook?" Momo had looked up at the smell of new food approaching the table. "It even looks decent!"

"Che. I've been living alone a lot over the past two years, Momo-senpai." Sitting down, his posture screaming, '_don't talk to me_,' the teen dug in.

"Ne, ne, Tezuka! Can we go into the city today before we see Taka-san? Ochibi hasn't been there in ages, and we need to show him the new arcade, and the tennis shop, and that burger place that opened another store in the entertainment district!" At the words '_burger place,_' Kikumaru had inadvertently shot down any objections Ryoma had to going.

Tezuka sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Everyone always asked him for permission. In their dysfunctional little family, he seemed to have become the paternal figure. "Fine."

"Yay! Day off! Day off! Day off!" chorused Momo and Kikumaru, doing a parody of the cancan.

"Shut up would you! How old are you, baka Momoshiri!" So began the first Momo vs. Kaidoh showdown of the day.

"Echizen, those reporters left, right? It's been well over five minutes." Oishi, who had noticed how Ryoma's face had suddenly paled and his eyes narrowed, had decided to find out if he was sick.

"Aa. Something more annoying is here, though." Oishi was now thoroughly freaked. The freshman by his side never acted scared, unless faced with Inui Juice.

"What?"

"Che. Freaking fans." The boy looked as if he wished he were wearing a hat that he could tug down. Sure enough, a few girls with signs had appeared outside the back of the house, and many more could be heard up front.

"I'll get rid of them, Ryo-chan. I'm done eating, anyways." Fuji stood gracefully and walked leisurely out of the dining room.

"Don't even _want_ to know what he's going to do to get rid of them…" muttered Momo, shivering.

"O-_chi_-bi! Someone's on the phone for you! It's some pissed sounding old dude who's speaking English!" Kikumaru's voice rang out from the far end of the kitchen where a phone was mounted on the wall.

'_This day just keeps getting better and better…'_ he thought sarcastically, walking to where the team's acrobat held the phone. "**Hello?**"

"_**Ryoma Echizen, do you know how hard I've been trying to find you for the past month?**_" Well damn. His manager had found him.

"**Obviously not hard enough.**"

"_**I'm coming to see you. We need to talk about this**_**.**"

"**What's there to talk about?**"

"_**Maybe what you're planning to do now? Are you honestly retiring?**_"

"**Calm down, you're not losing your job. I'm going back to the circuit in a few weeks for my Grand Slam, and a few months after that with some new opponents.**"

"_**That's the second time you've said that! What the hell do you even mean**_**?**"

"**Ooh, watch the language, Mr. Davis. Anyway, come find me if you want, it won't do you any good.**"

"_**Wipe that smirk off your face; you sound like you're smirking. And I'm sending **_**those**_** two to keep an eye on you.**_"

"**Che. I'm hanging up.**"

"**What? Ryo-**"

Ryoma placed the phone back in its cradle with a satisfyingly loud '_click._' So _they_ were coming, huh? Well, it might be a little entertaining to see his teammate's faces when they found out…

Pushing the thought out of his mind, the household's youngest member went to rejoin his teammates. The media must've spread his location around pretty quick, if Mr. Davis was already calling.

"Ah, Ochibi! Who was it? You were speaking English, I couldn't understand it…"

"No one important," he replied, brushing off Kikumaru's question and sliding back into his chair.

"Saa… It _sounded_ like someone. Your manager, perhaps?" Fuji had appeared in the door, completely unfazed by the horde of fans he'd just dealt with.

"Che."

"What? The brat's got a manager?" shouted Momo incredulously through a mouthful of toast. "Huh? Where'd he go?"

Ladies and Gentlemen: Echizen Ryoma has left the kitchen (3).

"Eiji-senpai, come on! We're finding Echizen and taking him to the arcade. He needs to get out more, anyways." With that, Momo led Kikumaru out of the room on their Ryoma Hunt.

The five left in the room sat, ate, read, or recorded "Ii data" for a few minutes, enjoying the temporary peace. Soon enough though, shouting erupted from the direction of the foyer.

"Really, Echizen? That's low!"

"Yadda! Let me go!"

"Ochibi, do you hate us _that much_?"

"No, no. You're coming with us into town whether you like it or not. I thought you wanted help me clean out that burger joint?"

"Tezuka, sorry if Ochibi made us mess up some of the stuff in your Quiet Room!" At the last exclamation, the trio appeared in the kitchen door, the shortest of them being dragged.

"He was hiding in there, Buchou," commented Momo.

"Che. It's these idiots' fault if anything in there's messed up." Ryoma's irritated voice drifted up from where he dangled, one arm held by each senpai.

"Is not. Ochibi, we just dropped by here to apologize in advance to Tezuka. Now you're going to get dressed, and we're going to the entertainment district."

"Yadda!"

Kikumaru and Momo then dragged the team's rookie, quite literally kicking and screaming, towards the center of the house.

Frog marching Ryoma up into his room, the two threw the boy into his room, following soon after. "Now, I'm going to get you something to wear!" Momo stated cheerfully as he stepped towards the bathroom.

"Che. I'll do it." Picking himself up, the irritated teen walked to the bathroom door, slamming it none too gently in Momo's face. '_No way in hell is Momo-senpai picking my clothes. I need something I won't be recognized in or I'll get mobbed now that the media blabbed about how I'm in Tokyo._'

Leaving his hair down and grabbing sunglasses that could dangle around his neck on a cord, Ryoma turned to his closet. Leaving on his black sports shorts and donning a yellow and green hoodie over his plain white t-shirt, the dark haired teen jammed a green baseball cap on his head. '_Good enough._'

Or so he thought. Judging by his upperclassmen's poorly suppressed laughter when he stepped outside, they disagreed. Raising an eyebrow, he silently demanded to know what was wrong with them.

"Pfft. Sorry, Echizen, I know you'll hate to hear this, but you look like a-" The room's front door had been slammed in Momo's face before he could even finish the statement. "O-oi, Echizen!"

"Unyah! Wait, Ochibi!" By the time the two got downstairs, Ryoma was already on his way to the kitchen. '_I don't care what Mr. Davis says about it being a 'moneymaker' I'm cutting my hair soon. Hell, I might do it in front of him._'

Caught up in his thoughts, the small teenager never noticed the two bodies hurtling towards him, ready to glomp. "Ochibi! I thought we said wait!" It was only after he had been tackled to the floor did Ryoma notice that 'we' referred to the two Kikumaru's pinning him down.

"Ei-ji." The word was spoken softly, stretched out threateningly. Fuji (along with the four other members of the team) had appeared in the hallway, hearing the commotion his junior's fall had caused.

"Okay, okay. We'll get off." The two redheads chorused before becoming one again. "Now, can we go? We won't have any time downtown, though, since we're walking to Meshika (4)."

"Aa! Let's get going!" The household's two loudest members led the way out the dorm's front door, their teammates following in various states of amusement (or exasperation).

"Ryo-chan, Meshika is also our next opponent – in the prefectural finals – did you know?" Fuji had fallen into step next to Ryoma, smiling serenely with his eyes closed as always.

"Hm. They any good?" Although his eyes sparked faintly at the thought of a potential challenge, the freshman doubted that they'd be facing anyone truly skilled so early in the tournament.

"Saa na…"

The two walked in a comfortable silence the rest of the way, watching their teammates antics. As they passed through the city, Ryoma found himself looking around, noting what had changed andt what was exactly the same as two years ago. The latter, as it turned out, overrode the former. Tokyo was still largely the same.

"Ah, we're here, guys." Oishi called out from the front of their little pack.

The group had stopped in front of a gate with the words '_Meshika Kokou_' on the wall next to it. Through the wrought iron bars, a few single story buildings could be seen. Gravel paths connected them, lined in bright green grass. Several maples were scattered with deliberate randomness in between the sandy brown web, making the campus resemble a park.

"This is a school?" How rich were schools in Tokyo, anyway?

"Yep. Pretty nice, huh, Ochibi?" asked Kikumaru, popping up behind the boy's shoulder.

A deep, vaguely familiar voice yelled at them from inside the school grounds. "Oi, you bastards coming in or not?"

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><p><strong>Oo, who is it? Find out next chapter c(; [he's sticking out his tongue and winking; live with it.]<strong>

**Hey, you know what this chapter's name stands for other than Rest and Relaxation? **_**READ AND REVIEW!**_

**(1) Ok, I know it sounds redneck-y, but that's the translation I saw for what Taka calls his dad. **

**(2) I laugh every time I write that.**

**(3) I hope everyone knows this, but this is a play on "Ladies and Gentlemen: Elvis has left the building."**

**(4) This will be Taka's school. If anyone noticed, other than the "ka" on the end, Meshika means food. **


	9. Meshika Kokou

**Yay! And I'm back with another GORGEOUS chapter! Unfortunately (this is especially embarrassing after my spiel at the start of the last chapter) I may miss an update or two soon. There's been a death in my family yesterday, 'nough said.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Eight: Meshika Kokou

_Last Time: A deep, vaguely familiar voice yelled at them from inside the school grounds. "Oi, you bastards coming in or not?"_

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><p>"Oi, you bastards coming in or not? Hey. Is that…? So the brat's really back, huh?" There, behind the iron bars of the school's front gate, stood a tall man with spiked up silver hair and fierce amber eyes. Akutsu Jin.<p>

"What's he doing at Kawamura-senpai's school?" inquired '_the brat_' in a bored tone, looking up at Fuji for an answer.

Chuckling, the brunet replied. "While Meshika is known for its strong emphasis on cooking, it is something of a sister school for Yamabuki Chuu. Many of their graduates move on to this school, and that includes all of their former tennis regulars."

"So we're basically facing Yamabuki in the finals?" deadpanned Ryoma, his mind automatically simplifying the prodigy's lengthy response.

"I guess you could say that," replied Fuji with a fond smile. '_How cute._'

"Che. Just like two years ago."

"Fuji, Echizen! 97% chance that Tezuka will assign you extra laps for tomorrow if you don't hurry up," Inui cut in, motioning from inside the gates.

"Gotcha (1)"

"Hai, hai…"

Walking towards his teammates, Ryoma felt a domineering presence approach him from behind. Turning around, he found exactly who he thought he would. "What?"

"Brat, come play a match with me," Akutsu demanded, staring down at him.

"I wouldn't play a match with someone who hasn't picked up a racquet in two years," taunted Ryoma, smirking up at the man.

"As if. The old man got me to rejoin the dumb club last year." How Akutsu's former coach managed to get the cantankerous teen to start playing a sport he hated again, when they didn't even come into regular contact anymore, the young tennis player would never know. Kawamura had come jogging out of one of the buildings just then, a few unfamiliar people looking out of the door he'd come through.

"Hey guys! You're just in time. We just finished making taiyaki as a treat for you."

"_Really?_ Thank you, Taka-san! Oishi, let's go get ours, nya!" Kikumaru then bounced off, dragging Oishi by the hand.

Smiling nostalgically, Kawamura addressed the rest of the group. "Come on, while they're still fresh. Oh! Echizen, you look…"

"Don't even think it."

Laughing at the short boy's response, Kawamura walked back to the building he'd just come from. Inside was an expansive kitchen with top-of-the-line equipment and eight individual stations. Several teenagers, four girls and three boys stood around, talking casually among each other.

'_No, there are five boys._' Kikumaru and Oishi stood with them, and no doubt the former _would_ be chatting if he didn't have the tail of his taiyaki held between his teeth. '_Like a cat…_' thought Ryoma, the fact that should he do the same, he'd be no better completely slipped his mind.

"Echizen, this is Akio, Kaede, Yoshiro, Chiyoko, Haruko, Yuzuki, and Amaya." The first three, all boys, nodded in acknowledgement. The last four, the girls, froze. Four pairs of eyes widened in recognition.

'_Damnit._' As Ryoma feared, these girls knew him.

The three that Kawamura had indicated as Chiyoko, Haruko, and Yuzuki all pounced on him at once. "Echizen-kun, is it really you?" asked Yuzuki animatedly, grinning ear to ear. The only thing that the young star could think as he stared at her was how unusual her hair was. It hung past the small of her back, even in a high ponytail, and was a pale, icy blue to match her stormy gray eyes.

"Oh my god, I never thought I'd meet you! Can I get a photo with you?" Chiyoko, a short girl with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes inquired.

Haruko, a tall girl, at least five foot seven, with curly red hair and hazel eyes, piped up. "It's really great to meet you, Ryoma-sama! Can I get your autograph?"

A derisive snort sounded from a few feet away. "Can I get you to _leave_?" The source was a distinctly Asian girl with long, sleek black hair and dark eyes. "Why are you guys being such idiots? This guy's totally fake, and he's probably all stuck up. He looks like a girl, none of those professional matches are for real, and do you honestly think a teenager could be the best player in the world?"

Ryoma's lips twisted up into a smile, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Which one are you? Well, comments about me aside, as I'm the best there is, your take on the pro circuits is spot on."

The girl only seemed to hear the middle of the sentence. "See, he's a stuck up jerk!" she exclaimed, shaking her friends' shoulders.

"Maa, maa, Amaya-chi. Ochibi can be a brat-"

"And cocky." Inui interrupted Kikumaru.

"And impulsive," chimed in Momo.

"And mean," continued the redhead, not missing a beat in his explanation of the enigma that is Echizen Ryoma. "But he's nice, if you look really-"

"Really."

"Really, _really_."

"Deep down. Plus he's fun to huggle (2)," the cat-boy added as an afterthought.

One eyebrow almost disappeared into the subject of their discussion's hairline. "Che."

"Saa… I don't know about all the other things, but you should give Ryo-chan a chance. He really doesn't like the spotlight, but that's why it's fun seeing him under it. And his arrogance is part of what makes him so adorable," stated Fuji calmly from where he leaned on the doorframe.

"That sounds really creepy, Fuji-senpai." As he spoke, a nervous smile wound its way onto Momo's face. Judging by the way Kaidoh was edging slightly away from the smiling brunet, the two were in agreement for once.

"Hmph. Whatever," huffed Amaya, spinning on her heel and walking back towards her station.

"Well… That was interesting." The three boys had finally stepped forward to introduce themselves. "I'm Kaede. You're really that big tennis star, huh?" Kaede was a relatively short (not so short as to be smaller than a certain dark haired tennis prodigy, but short nonetheless). with tousled silver hair and electric blue eyes. As he reached out one hand to shake, Ryoma's sharp eyes noted the small scars on his hands that matched some of Kawamura's.

"Un."

"Well, nice to meet 'ya," he said with a laid-back smile.

"Akio, a pleasure" stated a lanky teen with dark red hair and silver eyes. The two simply shook hands and returned to their business. The phrase, '_Two of a kind,_' ran through several of the group's minds.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Yoshiro." The last of the boys stepped forward with a small smile. He and Kawamura seemed to be the only bulky ones in the group; Yoshiro's muscles could compare to several of the men Ryoma had seen in tournaments. "You look like a girl, you know that?"

Those who knew of Ryoma's complex froze. "Yoshiro, I'm afraid to say you've just all but ruined any chances of Echizen liking you," stated Oishi, smiling ruefully.

"Che. Not even worth it anymore…" muttered the androgynous boy, pulling a hair elastic from his pocket. In a matter of seconds, his hair was pulled up in a high ponytail.

"Echizen-kun, do you want to come sit down?" Yuzuki inquired, gesturing towards a large table off to the side of the kitchen.

"Ah? What's this? Brat, stop hogging all the attention!" scolded Momo, putting the small teen into a headlock, dragging them towards the table with several more taiyaki in hand.

"That hurts, Momo-senpai," Ryoma deadpanned.

"Bah, you're fine. Now have some taiyaki and sit down." Seishun's trickster ruffled the teen in his grip's hair playfully before shoving a fish shaped pastry into his mouth and sitting down.

"Che."

~X~

"Wakey–wakey!" That morning, as a change of pace, golden eyes had opened to two wide purple eyes blinking at them. Kikumaru was kneeling next to him on the bed, poking his stomach experimentally. Ryoma sat up, having long since learned to deal with living with the redhead, and brushed said redhead off.

"I thought it was Saturday…" he mumbled, fully prepared to flop back in bed if Kikumaru didn't have a good reason for waking him up.

"Tezuka said our dorm's having practice today because we've got the finals against Yamabuki tomorrow, nya."

"Get out." The vertically challenged teen ruffled his hair, already rising. No matter how much it pained him to do, he _lived_ with his teammates. They would know where he was, so he couldn't lie about being late. Not to mention if he wasn't down by breakfast, Kikumaru and Momo would likely initiate another '_Ryoma Hunt._'

It was with tousled hair and eyelids that still drooped slightly that he stepped out of his room five minutes later, fully dressed. Not breaking pace as he dropped down the slide, Ryoma strode towards the kitchen, using the ribbon (2) clenched between his teeth to pull up his hair.

Stepping into the kitchen and seeing his team, the youngest member stated plainly, "Morning."

The Seishun Regulars then followed their morning routine of a noisy breakfast, followed by Tezuka virtually booting them out the door ("Kaidoh, Momoshiro, calm down and get out the door or it's fifty laps!") and one member or another nearly trampling an innocent student on the walk to the courts. Upon their arrival, Tezuka assigned Inui, Kaidoh, Oishi, and Kikumaru to putting up the nets, as the first years weren't there this morning.

"Everyone, line up!" Tezuka called across the courts. "Inui has prepared a special training menu for the Regulars. We will be training until lunch today, and then we'll return to our dorms to rest before the finals against Meshika tomorrow. Saa, yudan sezu ni ikou." At this point, Inui had stepped forward, notebook open and several pieces of paper in hand.

"We'll be starting with group drills and workouts for the first two hours, taking a short break, then proceeding to more specialized exercises for an hour and a half. We'll use the last half hour of practice for self-training, if you want to work on anything yourself. First, everyone's taking fifteen laps to warm up, then partner up for stretching." The data player seemed to remember something just after he finished his speech, and turned back around from where he'd begun to walk off. "Oh, and while you're fully expected to just be warming up for the laps, the loser will still be receiving a shot glass of, Penal-Tea."

Many of the group gulped. If Inui was breaking out the Penal-Tea this early, god knows what other vile drinks would appear by the end of practice.

'_I'm not drinking that._' A commonly thought sentiment at Seishun's tennis team ran through the Regulars' heads.

"Well, then. Ready, set, go!" Inui gave the order abruptly, setting off at a brisk jog along with Tezuka and Fuji, who hadn't been concerned by the prospect of Penal-Tea in the least.

Blanching and snapping out of their determination to not even _touch_ the shot glass, the five other Regulars took off. Almost sprinting to compensate the distance between them and the three seniors ahead of them, the five teenagers resorted once more to the anarchic race that is running laps at Seishun.

Noticing how Inui and Tezuka couldn't see him, Ryoma sent the Pinnacle of Hard Work into his legs, immediately catapulting him in front of the four other stragglers. Smirking over his shoulder, he called to his upperclassmen, "Mada mada dane!"

"Unyah! Ochibi's abusing his power again! Dad!" Kikumaru screamed up into the sky.

"Oishi-senpai," panted Momo, turning his head to the mother hen. "When Eiji-senpai says '_Dad,_' does he mean Tezuka?"

"Probably," replied Oishi, smiling slightly.

"Echizen, there's an 89.59% chance that Kikumaru means you're using one of your Pinnacles. You'll be getting the whole jug of Penal-Tea if you keep relying on them," Inui called, not even looking back.

"Fine, it doesn't really matter to me," Ryoma responded in a blasé tone, the aura around his legs dissipating.

"Echizen, you can't do that, no you can't." Momo had used the time that the freshman been distracted to catch up with him. "Looks like ever since you got control of your Pinnacles in that match with Yukimura-san two years ago, you've been using them a lot." Though the words were largely teasing, there was a slightly chiding tone in the second year's voice.

"Che. I just don't want to drink _that_ gunk. I can win my matches without it."

"Ha! I bet you can't go a month without using a Pinnacle!" Having known how to push Ryoma's buttons for a while now, Momo expertly played off of the teen's sense of pride.

"And I'll bet I can. Loser pays for the burgers next time."

"You're on." The tennis star felt a smirk creep onto his face. He could practically see his friend's wallet going into death throes as Momo sealed the bet.

"Echizen, you'd better not let this bet get in the way of winning tomorrow," Tezuka called over his shoulder at his team's ace.

"Gotcha," replied the freshman, quickening his pace so that he was gaining on the three seniors in the lead.

"There is a 64.80% chance that you're planning on catching up to us just to run in my slipstream."

"Not really, just wanted to get away from all the noisy people back there," muttered Ryoma, tugging his hat down to cover his eyes.

Just then, Momo put on a burst of speed, passing the team's smallest Regular. "Yo, Echizen! You look like a chick, you know that?" he shouted, still sprinting ahead. No doubt he was trying to goad his junior into using the Pinnacle of Hard Work, but he'd forgotten that Echizen Ryoma was a top athlete and perfectly capable of keeping pace with those taller than him.

"Argh! Little brat!"

"Mada mada dane, Momo-senpai!"

~X~

"Break's over! Line up!"

Tezuka's shout carried over to where his teammates sat under a tree, recharging. As the six high schoolers joined him and Inui on the courts, their data-tennis player spoke up.

"We'll be moving on from training our bodies now. We'll be starting drills for our shots' power, speed, and accuracy. First, I want you to pair up with someone about your height and weight. Echizen, everyone here is at least five inches taller than you, so you'll just have to make due with Fuji or Kikumaru."

"I'm not _that_ short, you're all just freakishly tall." Despite his words, Ryoma knew it wasn't true. He was sixteen, done growing, and five feet tall. Fuji was the second shortest on the team, and even he was five foot five.

"Saa… Ryo-chan, I don't think I'm that '_freakishly tall,_'" joked the genius, suddenly appearing beside the green haired teen.

"That's because you're freakish in a bunch of other ways."

Everyone froze. True, their baby's scoffing, ever-so-slightly playful tone had suggested it, but was he… _teasing?_ Moreover, was he teasing _Fuji?_

A soft laugh broke the silence. "How mean…"

With Fuji's words, the team seemed to break out of their trance, and Inui picked up with his directions. "Well, if you can choose your partners." There was a brief moment as everyone selected a partner, Kikumaru immediately jumping on to Oishi possessively.

"Now, we'll be playing an advanced version of Queen of the Court."

…

"Echizen's the Queen."

"Ochibi's the Queen."

"Ryo-chan's the Queen."

"Echizen's the Queen."

"Like hell if you think I'm being the Queen."

"You didn't let me finish. While usually, Queen of the Court is played by having a Queen and having everyone lining up to challenge… her, this will be played as a one-game singles match, then the winners will begin a traditional game." Inui looked extremely pleased with himself. His teammates were about to find out that that wasn't because he'd modified a common children's game. "The earlier you get out, the bigger your serving of Super Inui Platinum Remix Pudding will be."

'_Oh, shit…_'

The tennis players paled as one. Even Fuji and Tezuka had adopted a slight pallor. While most of the drinks were, to Fuji and Tezuka at least, nonlethal, any one the toxic foods Inui had started making last year could knock both of them flat on their back with one bite.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ryo-chan, but I'm not going easy on you." Fuji's eyes had opened, blue orbs trained on the large platter of some metallic, gelatinous… _thing_.

"No Pinnacles, huh?" was the freshman's only response to seeing the brunet totally serious. He too was trying to see if his unblinking gaze could disintegrate that monstrosity they were being threatened with.

"Wait, Inui. Why did we need to be with someone about our size?" inquired Oishi from inside Kikumaru's death-grip.

"You're both required to wear the same amount of weights. Also, this person will be your partner for any exercises that require them throughout the rest of practice." Inui barely looked up from the box of weights in his hands.

"Inui-senpai, I already wear weights," Ryoma stated blandly from where he was re-tying his shoelaces.

"Saa… I'll just have to match it, then. How much are they, Ryo-chan?" asked the team's second shortest player.

"I've got thirty pounds (3) on both wrists and ankles."

"Heh. Doesn't that mean you're wearing your own weight…?" trailed Fuji, not looking concerned in the least.

"Yeah, and I'm not allowed to take them off." As irritating and obnoxious as his personal trainer was, he could honestly say that the man knew what he was doing. Ryoma had been told to keep them on, so keep them on he would.

"It's fine, I'll match it. It isn't much more than I usually wear."

"Well then, here're your weights. Decide between yourself who'll be the Queen and who'll be the Challenger. The first round will be a one game singles match, and the winner will proceed to our actual game of Queen of the Court. You all know what happens to the loser." Inui's last sentence sent a shudder down everyone's spine. Oh, they know.

"Ryo-chan, do you want to use that court?" The brunet gestured towards the court next to them, as Kaidoh and Inui had claimed the one that the team had gathered on.

"Fine by me." The cat-eyed boy rested his racquet on one shoulder and walked to one side. "You're the Queen. I'm not doing it."

Fuji chuckled in reply, slipping into the receiver's position. "Alright. That means it's your serve."

Using his right hand to bounce the little yellow ball he'd provided from one pocket, Ryoma's eyes narrowed slightly. Catching the ball one last time and flinging it straight in the air, the tennis prodigy's body coiled smoothly.

'_What'll it be? Flash? A serve I haven't seen, maybe?_' mused Seishun's tensai. What he wasn't expecting was for the ball to land near his right foot, spin, and rocket past his left shoulder.

"I don't need to use my right hand for it anymore." The short athlete smirked, pointing his racquet straight at Fuji. "Twist Serve."

"Hmm… and it seems to be even sharper than before. Would you mind doing that again, Ryoma? I'd like to beat it."

The use of his actual name alerted Ryoma as to how serious his opponent's request was. "Sure. If you can."

The freshman repeated his signature serve, forcing even more spin on the ball than the last one. Even so, Fuji returned it neatly back to him. Countering the genius' quick topspin shot and neutralizing the spin as he did so, Ryoma smiled. Playing Fuji was always so thrilling…

"Tenth Counter: Dove's Landing."

Ryoma nearly gagged. He was up to _ten?_ What happened to seven, eight, and nine?

The brunet's tenth counter seemed to rely on the opponent using absolutely no spin. The drop shot was hit extremely close to the net and flew delicately. The ball arced just a millimeter over the net and landed gently with a few tiny bounces.

Fuji smiled. "I would've like to show them to you in order, but I couldn't pass up this opportunity. There's actually twelve counters, and some of them have improved versions, like the original three."

… Fuji. Had _doubled_. The number of counters. Ryoma honestly wasn't sure if he was incredulous, (the genius had said _five_ was the final counter, for God's sake!) scared, or excited.

… Excited. That was much less confusing than the other two.

"Not bad, but I'll beat them all." Shaking off his initial surprise, the youngest Regular grabbed another ball from his pocket. "Don't blink, now. **Flash**."

A bang and metallic rattle echoed across the courts as Ryoma implemented his high speed serve. "Mada mada dane, Fuji-senpai."

"Saa… Could I attempt to see that again?" The two seemed to fall into a routine of taunting challenges whenever they played.

The short teen snorted. "Doesn't matter. **Fl-**"

"Ore-sama heard the brat was back and demands a match with him this instant!"

"Ack! Freaking Monkey King!" As the doors to the court slammed open, Ryoma lost focus for a split second – which was ample time for the tennis ball he'd tossed to come back down on his head.

"Don't call ore-sama with such a vile name, brat, or ore-sama might decide not to grace you peasants with my magnificent presence. Ore-sama must say, though, ore-sama almost thought you were a girl at first." Of course, it was Atobe Keigo. The diva stood at the entrance to the courts in casual (for him) clothes, flanked by his teammates.

"Che. Listen, Monkey King. I'll be more than happy to wipe the courts with your precious face later, but _not now_." Ryoma walked towards the two as he spoke, glaring at them all the while. It didn't really bother him that Monkey King had come to his school, the man was an incredible opponent and thus more welcome than the media and the fans, but then Atobe just _had_ to use the g-word. Not to mention the fact that he was already facing a challenge.

"Echizen, you forfeit." Inui called from where he stood, waiting to serve, on the court next to Fuji and Ryoma's.

"Wha- Why?" When did he forfeit? He _was_ trying to get rid of Monkey King so he could continue the drill, after all.

"You stepped off court," replied Inui matter-of-factly, indicating Ryoma's feet… that had indeed left inside of the white lines.

"You're kidding me."

"Afraid not. Congratulations, you're the first to get out, and get the biggest serving of pudding." Inui smiled evilly as his junior gulped and paled. Meanwhile, Hyotei looked on in confusion.

"What's so bad about pudding?" inquired Gakuto. Sweets were good, not something worthy of sending someone so calm and collected into a state of panic.

A feminine laugh pealed from the other side of Echizen's court. "You'll see soon, Hyotei-tachi. Do you remember our yakiniku contest two years ago?" Fuji smiled as he walked over to the other team. "Inui's expanded to foods since then. The penalty for loosing in this drill is a helping of Super Inui Platinum Remix Pudding."

A shudder ran through the Hyotei players. "Well, have fun with that Echizen; you'd better have me down for some cash in your will," uttered Gakuto with a perfectly straight face. Inui's first ever drink had taken him down during the yakiniku contest.

"Che." Accepting the small plate of… _goo_, Ryoma stared down at the mass of silver. He'd supposedly gotten the biggest serving, but the amount of pudding was still small enough to be eaten in on (large) bite. '_Probably because that bastard Inui-senpai knows no one will be able to take two._'

"Eat up," said Inui with a cackle. The man was towering over Ryoma (by more than a foot) and surrounded by a black aura, glasses agleam.

"I'm really not sure who's more of a sadist, you know that?" commented before throwing the entire mass of goo down.

A blood-curdling shriek echoed across the entire tennis complex.

"O-to!" Fuji deftly caught the Prince's small, prone form as it crumpled to the ground. "Rest in peace, Ryo-chan," he said with a cheer that he hadn't bothered hiding.

Momo laughed boisterously. "Oh, I am _so_ remembering this! Echizen screams like such a girl!"

"If I saw correctly, Momoshiro, you're next. You _did_ just lose to Tezuka, didn't you?" asked Inui, quickly changing targets.

"Wait, what? Noooooo!" As Momo ran like the Hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels, Atobe returned his attention to where Fuji had swept Ryoma into his arms, bridal style.

"Ahn? What's this? Now I can't have my match with the brat! Tell him when and if he wakes up that I'll be waiting for him in the regional tournament, Singles One. Nah, Kabaji?"

"Usu."

Another scream, this time Momo's came from the other end of the block. Two down.

Looking extremely out of his element, Ootori turned to Fuji. "Are things always like this here?"

"More or less."

* * *

><p><strong>(1) When Ryoma says "Gotcha" he'd be saying "Uisu (we-s)" in Japanese.<strong>

**(2) I really need to find a manlier way to put that. Any suggestions?**

**(3) Sorry anyone… not American, I guess. I am, but I think 25 lbs = 13-ish kilos and 30 lbs = 15-ish kilos**

**About the random Hyotei cameo... I did it for teh lulz. Like you didn't love it. Speaking of love, I love you all sososososososoooooo much, whether or not I miss an update in the coming weeks! R&R... son of a bitch I finally said it.**


	10. Prefectural Finals I

**... I don't know what to do with my first line break if I don't put SOMETHING here...**

**Love y'all. This chapter was a bitch. I have a field trip today. Read and review. I love reviews... ON WITH THE DEMON CHAPTER (that I never wanna touch again. It has a special form of the plague that only I can get -3-)!**

* * *

><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Nine: Prefectural Finals I

* * *

><p>"Come on, come on! We're going to be late, nya!" Kikumaru led the way into the tournament grounds, tugging at whoever's hand was within reach. As the entire team stepped through the gates, murmurs rippled out through the crowd.<p>

"Ryo-chan's presence seems to cause a stir wherever he goes," observed Fuji, smiling and shaking in silent laughter.

"There's a reason I never went out in public over the past two years," replied the short teen, drifting to the center of their group and tugging his hat down to avoid drawing attention.

The team continued through the maze of tennis courts and people, eventually arriving at the match's venue. There was a collective sigh as numerous bags were dropped on the bench with a loud thump.

"Don't sit down, everyone. We're going to line up now." Tezuka's steady bass rang out to his teammates.

There was a lax chorus of, "Hai, buchou," as the team picked themselves up once more. Falling into line, Seishun Kokou faced their opponents.

"We will now begin the Tokyo Prefectural Finals between Meshika Kokou and Seishun Kokou."

The female announcer's voice rang out of speakers mounted around the courts, barely audible over the crowd's cheers. On each side of the net, eight teenage boys stood in a row. One line was a mass of clean red and blue lines on a white background, the other a simple yellow with a green zigzag down the center.

"Let's have a good match!" chanted the two rows.

As Seishun Kokou's players returned to their bench, Tezuka cleared his throat once. "The order for today will be: Doubles Two, Momoshiro/Kaidoh pair-"

Several loud groans and complaints came from the two. "But I thought you weren't going to put me with Mamushi again!" groaned Momo.

"Fssshhhhh. Like I want to be stuck with the idiot."

"What was that, bastard?"

Before another fight could break out, Tezuka spoke up again. "Momoshiro, Kaidoh, stop or it's five laps around the complex after your match.

"Hai…"

"Doubles One will be Oishi/Kikumaru pair; Singles Three, Fuji; Singles Two, Echizen; Singles One, myself. Inui, you'll be sitting out this round. Doubles and Fuji, I want you to end this match. Saa, yudan sezu ni ikou."

"Che. I don't get to play, then," Ryoma stated, walking off. Of course, those who knew him well got the extra meaning. '_Che. I'm off to get Ponta._'

"Don't mess this up, Mamushi," warned Momo, standing slowly.

"Don't get in my way, Momoshiri."

The rivals walked away from their teammates coolly, heading for the net. "We will now begin Doubles Two, Meshika Kokou's Kita/Nitobe pair versus Seishun Kokou's Momoshiro/Kaidoh pair. Both pairs please enter the courts."

"Ne, ne, Oishi. Isn't that the pair that beat Fujiko and Taka-san in Middle School?" asked Kikumaru, looking up at his partner.

"Aa," replied Oishi, scrunching his eyebrows together as he stared at the four players shaking hands.

"I honestly don't know how they did it," commented Fuji, his smile looking a bit forced. While losing didn't particularly bother him, losing to those that he could beat easily…

"Best of one set match. Seishun's Kaidoh to serve!"

The air seemed to vibrate with anticipation and the roar of the crowd as the Snake Shot player got into the serving position. Tossing the ball up and slamming his racquet into it, Kaidoh sent the ball hurtling through the air, to bounce in the corner of the receiver – Kita's – box.

"Oi, Momoshiro, yours!" he shouted as Kita's counter shot came flying towards his partner.

"Doryaa!" Momo let out a loud grunt as he hit a jackknife, going all-out from the beginning. Nitobe's attempt at returning the backhand left his racquet on the ground and his arm trembling. "Lucky!"

Across the net, Meshika's pair gritted their teeth. "Oi, Kita. Seishun's gotten better again…"

Nitobe, still trying to stop his hand from shaking, mumbled in reply, "I don't remember the jackknife being so strong last year…"

"Freakin' show off…" muttered Momo's current partner.

"Eh? If you're going to grumble, then do something, Mamushi," commented Momo with a silly grin. "Now get going."

Throwing one more glare his rival's way, Kaidoh walked to the other side of the court to serve again. As the ball flew past the net, Nitobe tensed.

Turning his body and bringing his arm back to hit the ball, he suddenly paused, gaping. As soon as the little yellow ball had bounced, it had cut rapidly to Nitobe's left, swinging in a sharp arc around him. As it passed less than two feet from his head, he could hear a faint hiss of air marking its passing.

Under a tree not far away, a high, drawling voice rang out as the user lowered a can of Ponta from their lips. "Heeh… Not bad, Momo-senpai, Kaidoh-senpai."

~X~

There was a loud bang as the ball impacted with the ground. "Game, Seishun. Two games to love! Seishun's Momo to serve."

"Yosh! Here I come!" The new and improved Bullet Serve rocketed towards Nitobe at almost 200 kilometers per hour, signaling the start of the set's third game.

'_I can barely return it,_' thought Nitobe, bracing his racquet with both hands.

As Kaidoh's eyes followed the yellow streak's path to his position, he bent his knees and swung one arm up behind him. A Boomerang Snake exploded from his racquet, whipping around the net post and under the referee's chair. Kita raced to the other end of the baseline to catch up to it, accidently hitting a lob in his haste.

"Chance!" yelled Momo, leaping into the air. Using his Dunk Smash at its full power, he landed lightly on the balls of his feet. "Don! …Huh?"

Nitobe had attempted to return the finishing smash, and was staring dumbly staring at the rough hole in the middle of his racquet's gut. The ball had gone straight through the strings and smashed into the court, leaving a sizeable dent in the court's surface. His arm was shaking wildly again, and beginning to swell.

"Oi, Nitobe, you okay?" gasped Kita, wide-eyed at the damage his opponent's smash had caused.

"I th-think so…" mumbled the brunet. However, even as he spoke, his racquet clattered out of his hand and to the ground.

"Oi, leaf-head, you okay? Sorry about that!" Momo yelled across the net, looking excessively sheepish.

"Idiot. If we don't get to finish this match, it's your fault," growled Kaidoh, crossing his arms in irritation.

"Nitobe, if you can't even pick up your racquet, you can't play," stated Kita seriously. Ignoring all of his partner's protests, he called out to the referee, "We're forfeiting this match, ref!"

The official nodded, raising his arm. "Due to Meshika Kokou's forfeit, Seishun Kokou wins by default."

"Eh? That's too bad. I hope your wrist turns out okay, dude!"

"Such a lame way to end the match…"

As the players walked off to their respective benches, an announcement rang out across the courts. "Excuse the interruption. There will be a brief intermission before Doubles Two begins to repair the court. Both teams, please be prepared to play."

"Mou, Momo-chi, because of the dent you made, we've got to wait before our match!" whined Kikumaru.

"Chiisu (1)."

"Nya! Ochibi, when did you get back?" inquired the startled Kikumaru.

Ignoring the question as he tossed an empty can of Ponta into a nearby trash bin, Ryoma turned to the two bickering juniors. "Ne, Kaidoh-senpai. What was that serve during the first game? It wasn't bad."

"That's Kaidoh's 'Rattlesnake,'" Fuji chimed in.

"Heeh…" The teen smiled, eyes glinting at the thought of being up against the strange serve.

The team sat around, chatting amiably. "Ne, ne, Oishi! Can we use Synchro in this match? Please, we haven't used it yet in the tournament!"

"Eiji, we're only supposed to use that in emergencies," soothed Oishi with a smile at his lover's antics.

"Eh? But–but–but–!"

"We apologize for the wait; Doubles Two is now safe to begin." A woman's voice rang pleasantly over the speakers.

"Unyah! C'mon Oishi, let's go!" Kikumaru, immediately recovering from his dismay, jumped up from his seat and grabbed Oishi's hands. "Ne, we're facing the Jimmies, right?"

"Aa…" The mother hen scowled faintly. Over the past two years, he and Eiji had gotten to the point that the Jimmies were no competition for them. That didn't make his earlier memories of the pair any better. "Ite!"

"Oishi." Kikumaru stuck out his bottom lip, withdrawing his fingers from where they'd flicked him square on the forehead. "We're going into Synchro. It'll keep you from getting stressed, right?"

"Eiji…"

"Don't mind, don't mind," replied the redhead, waving his hand as if to brush the matter away. "Let's go, everyone's waiting." With that, the Golden Pair walked calmly to the net. As they strode forward,

'_Oishi… Can you feel it? We're all alone here, where we can just play tennis together. Relax, ne?'_

'_Aa… Thank you, Eiji. I did miss going into Synchro with you. We haven't since last year, have we? Let's just use this chance to enjoy it again.'_

'_Un… It'll be fun.'_

"Let's have a good match," said Eiji, smiling tranquilly, his eyes an unfocused gold.

Higashikata gave a forced smile. "Looking forward to it…"

~X~

Ryoma smiled and let out a low whistle, resting his chin on the palm of one hand. "Senpai-tachi's aura seems to have gotten even stronger over the past two years."

"That it has. You should've seen them last year during the finals, Ryo-chan," replied Fuji complacently. "Now watch that aura do its job. They're about to start."

Sure enough, Kentarou was bent at the hip, slowly bouncing a tennis ball. Drawing back, he hit a straight, forceful shot, signaling the start of the game.

Returning the basic shot, Kikumaru rushed the net, eyes glowing pools of gold. Oishi shadowed him closely, his movements mirroring that of his partner.

The two began to play, moving across the courts in perfect synchronization. The state left them at the height of their concentration, yet completely detached. As the first point went to Seishun, the partners slapped a quick high-five.

"I guess we can see how _this_ match is going to end," drawled Momo with a large smile from where he was sprawled on the bench.

Ryoma smiled, eyes glinting again. "Mm… No fan of doubles, but they don't look bad."

The first game ended, then the second, the third, and the fourth. The Golden Pair took them all, breaking through Meshika's techniques and strategies one by one. Kikumaru and Oishi deepened their synchronization with each passing point, the tennis match turning into an ethereal dance.

The two teenagers sprang across the court gracefully, moving in time to a beat only they could hear. The ball traced zigzagging patterns over the net, coming to a stop time and time again on the opponent's side of the court.

As a member of the tournament staff drew his hand away from the newly formed lines of a '_5 – 40,_' on the green surface of a scoreboard, a roar rang out. Kikumaru had leapt into the air, twisting the length of his body sinuously. Turning upside down, he prepared for a Kikumaru Beam… and dropped, catlike, to the ground again.

The ball plummeted to the ground, accompanied by the scraping of a racquet on the court. The spectators were silent as the yellow orb completed its arc, landing with a clean '_pon_' on Oishi's racquet.

"Moon… Volley…" muttered the slack-jawed Kachirou.

"Game and match, won by Seishun Kokou's Kikumaru/Oishi pair. Six games to love!"

"Yatta! Oishi! We won!" The excitable acrobat jumped on his partner, snapping out of Synchro in an instant and wrapping his limbs around the man.

In response, Oishi smiled affectionately. "Aa. Thank you, Eiji."

"No problem, nya. Now, let's go get some water, I'm dying here!" Hopping down from his favorite perch, – Oishi's shoulders – Kikumaru smiled brightly at the hidden joke. With the amount of stamina training he'd been doing since middle school, the idea of him getting tired was absurd.

"Good luck, Fuji," encouraged Oishi with a smile as the two sat down.

"Mm…" Brown strands of hair danced lazily in the wind as Seishun's tensai stood. "There's a nice wind today."

* * *

><p><strong>HALLELUJAH! Oh, my goooodddddddd…This chapter. Took <strong>_**so long.**_** Seriously, it took at least two weeks (funny enough, it's still the shortest chapter yet, sans the prologue). If anyone cares about the fact that I barely write matches, tell me. Otherwise, it's staying like this.**

**Also, when someone says "Mm," they're saying that in contemplative agreement, not "Mm, that's good food."**

**(1) Is it 'Chiisu' or 'Cheers?' If no one knows what I'm talking about, Ryoma sometimes says it (or Uisu) as a greeting.**


	11. Fun With Counters

**This chapter is longer than the last few (a peace offering). Actually, it's the longest yet. Yay!**

**Warning: this chapter has my first character-bashing spree. Remember that I **_**did**_** (le gasp) pity the guy while writing this.**

* * *

><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Ten: Fun With Counters

* * *

><p><em>Last Time: "Mm…" Brown strands of hair danced lazily in the wind as Seishun's tensai stood. "There's a nice wind today."<em>

The chants and cheers of the crowd filled the air as Fuji Syuusuke smiled placidly. "I wonder who it'll be this time…"

As if the words were some kind of trigger, the announcer's polite voice reverberated over the chatter and chaos surrounding center court. "We will now begin Singles Three, between Seishun Kokou's Fuji Syuusuke and Meshika Kokou's Dan Taichi. Both players please enter the courts."

There was a small moment of shock at the Seishun bench, many of the members surprised to hear the familiar name.

"Who?" came Ryoma's bored voice from the edges of their group.

"O-oi, Echizen, don't you remember?" Momo had a strange look on his face as he posed the question, unsure if he should be amused, incredulous, or simply face palming.

The team's resident genius was one of the few to remain unperturbed, simply humming amusedly as he walked off to the court. '_I'll make sure to show you the counters in order now, Ryo-chan._'

As the tensai walked away, the team's data master spoke up in reply to Momo's earlier question. "Echizen is known to have an awful memory, for names and faces in particular. Considering the fact that it's been two years since he's seen Dan-san, it isn't surprising that he forgot. Echizen, if you want to cure that, I think that my new-"

"Don't want it," Ryoma interrupted hastily, not wanting to turn into Inui's guinea pig… again. Switching his focus to the net that Fuji had already approached, the petite teen found the perfect distraction. "Oh, that guy."

There stood the same person who had challenged Ryoma (hesitantly though it had been at first) shortly after Seigaku's match against Jyousei Shounan. It was the same person, yes, but by no stretch of the imagination was it the same _boy_. The once little Dan had overcome the height barrier that once gave him so much anxiety. He was no giant, but he could look Fuji in the eye, at least. On top of this, the daily training he no doubt went through at Meshika had provided him with a healthy set of muscles. His eyes and face still contained a polite, childish innocence, though, and his forehead was still covered in a green sweatband.

For whatever reason, Momo chose that moment to burst into laughter. "Sucks to be you, Echizen! You must be the shortest person in the league!" Continuing in his hysterics, (and almost falling off of the bench in the process) Momo didn't notice the small hand flying at the back of his skull. Until he was smacked upside the head, that is.

"If you'd shut up, Momo-senpai."

"What the hell, Echizen? You can't treat a senpai as rudely as that; you just can't!" exclaimed the peeved junior, rubbing the back of his head.

"If you'd _please_ shut up, then."

"Echizen, Momo!" interrupted the stern voice of their captain. "Unless you want ten laps around the complex, quiet down and watch the match."

"Gotcha."

"Hai…"

~X~

"Do you still copy?"

Fuji's query was soft and gentle, enough so that only the teen across from him could hear.

Dan blinked once, then blushed and scratched the back of his head, laughing sheepishly. "Well- that is… no. Over the years, I re-trained in the basics and that's how I play now, desu."

"That's good to hear… Now, let's get to it, shall we? Rough or smooth?" The brunet's head tipped lazily as he smiled, placing his pale racquet tip-down on the ground.

"Smooth, desu."

Nodding once, Fuji spun the handle expertly. Closed eyes watched as the letter "F" whirled around and around, finally clattering to the ground. "Hm. Smooth. It would seem as if it's your serve, Dan-kun." Sure enough, the letter had landed right side up.

"Ah. I'm looking forward to our match, Fuji-san. Good luck, desu!" chirped the former manager, smiling brightly.

"The same to you." With that, the two players turned from each other and began walking towards their respective sides of the court.

"Best of one set match, Meshika's Dan Taichi to serve!"

"Here I come, Fuji-san!" With one practiced motion, Dan began the game.

Making a split-second decision to test the waters, Seishun's genius began a simple rally with his opponent. '_You gave up copying for a mastery of the basics… Let's see if you meant it, ne?_'

After they'd rallied for well over five minutes, Fuji decided to pick up the pace, if only a little. The brunet returned a cross shot in kind, grunting slightly. He allowed his muscles to relax the tiniest amount as the ball sailed over the net, bounced, and rolled away. '_Well then, the first point seems to be mine._'

The game continued to this (a.k.a. Fuji's) pace until the middle of the fourth game, a long rally of basic shots that always ended with Fuji getting a point. That is, until-

"Drive B!"

"Point, Meshika! 15 – 30."

For once, the referee's voice had no competition, ringing loud and clear across the court. Everyone could recognize one of the early moves from Samurai Junior's expansive arsenal, but hardly anyone knew why it was coming off of Dan Taichi's racquet.

"Hm? Well, that's not good, Dan-kun. I don't appreciate copycats, you know. Not to mention liars," Fuji stated disapprovingly.

"Eh? I'm really sorry Fuji-san, but I-" the flustered (and admittedly a bit scared) tennis player attempted to explain before getting cut off.

"I'm sure. Now, let's keep this match going," Fuji said with an open-eyed smile that could freeze the bravest of men to their cores. "I believe it's your serve."

Nodding slowly, Dan took his place behind the thin white line. His serve bounced far to Fuji's right, flying off the courts in the process.

"How fantastically convenient," beamed the brunet. "Seventh Counter: Foxhole."

Foxhole turned out to be designed for this exact scenario. It was a sharp backhand that bounced off of the net's outer pole and flew close to the ground on Dan's court, parallel to the net. Just like it's namesake, the sneaky fox.

"Point, Seishun! 15 – 40."

Dan stumbled, just barely managing to hit a shallow drop shot.

"Eighth Counter: Dragon's Breath."

In the same instant that his racquet made contact with the little yellow ball, Fuji twirled it three hundred and sixty degrees. The result was a long, erratic trail of yellow as the tennis ball rocketed around in the air.

The air was filled with the sound of gasps and camera shutters as the crowd began to chatter about the _second_ physics-defying shot they'd seen from the feminine player in so many minutes.

On the bench, golden eyes widened as a set of lips curved into a sly smile. "Heeh… and there are three others that I haven't seen? Sounds fun."

"Point, Seishun! Five games to love!"

'_I can't let this continue, desu. I can't let my teammates down by losing to Fuji-san.'_ Dan smiled slightly, eyes brightening with hope as he sent a deep slice shot into his opponent's court.

Only for his hopes to be crushed a moment later with four soft, unassuming words.

"Ninth Counter: Black Horse."

Blue eyes snapped open for a moment as their owner returned the shot, doubling the amount of spin on it as he did so. The ball shot towards the net, eventually colliding with the white line running along the top of it. After curving up in a way that vaguely resembled Fuji's Third Counter, the yellow orb fell straight down. It spun to a standstill at the "T" where the three boxes met in the center of the court, soon becoming the focus of no few incredulous gazes.

"W-what is this guy?"

The few that could answer the unknown man's (extremely pertinent) question all murmured the same thing, forming a broken chorus: " Tensai, Fuji Syuusuke."

"Point, Seishun! 15 – love!"

"Tenth Counter: Dove's Landing."

The gentlest of Fuji's dozen counters flew lazily over the net, making nearly no noise as it landed, bounced, and rolled away.

Dan twitched, doing his damndest not to show the panic (and slight fear) that the ever-so-harmless-looking brunet/part time Satan was instigating. Honestly, how many of these counters were there?

Still standing just a few feet from the net, said part time Satan laughed quietly.

'_I hope you're enjoying the little exposé as much as I am, Ryo-chan. This really is going much better than my original plan.'_

"Point, Seishun! 30 – love!"

"It's almost time…"

Ryoma's sharp ears could just barely detect his upperclassman's words. Time for what, exactly? Knowing the genius, the rest of that sentence was either, "for all hell to break loose," or, "for Armageddon. Release the Horsemen."

The flustered Dan hit a fierce drive volley towards Fuji, scrunching his eyebrows slightly. Well, at least he wasn't one to go down without putting up a fight.

The angelic devil smiled, clearly not troubled in the least.

"Eleventh Counter: Artemis"

Ryoma smiled in anticipation and amusement as the ball curved in the air, and bounced in a straight line towards the net. "Did Fuji-senpai take that from Drive C? I'm flattered."

"I believe that the first 60% of the shot, the curve, was based on Drive C, yes, but the straight line took components from Zero-Shiki Drop Shot and Hakugei," replied Inui, his voice barely above a mumble as he scribbled madly. The last time Fuji had put on such an exhibition was his match against Shiraishi, two whole years ago.

"Ne, ne, Ochibi! Did you notice the shape? It's a bow! I think Fuji once told me that the full name was '_Eleventh Counter: Artemis the Huntress_' but he thought it was too long, nya. Not enough time to say it and still sound intimidating, apparently." As Kikumaru glomped his favorite plushy, (not to be confused with security blanket, a.k.a. Oishi) the team's focus turned back to the match… in the loosest sense of the word.

"Point, Seishun! 40 – love!"

'_It seems that this will be over and done with momentarily,_' Fuji observed mentally.

The ball had whistled straight towards his opponent's chest, forcing the teen to hit a lob. It now flew skyward, becoming no more than a little black dot on the sun. The brunet launched his petite frame into the air, one hand outstretched.

"Twelfth Counter: Call of Anubis."

Waiting for the instant that the ball began its descent back to the ground, the young genius smashed downward with all his might. The force of gravity combined with the raw power forced into the shot accelerated the ball. It drilled into the courts, throwing up a puff of dust as it spun on the spot. Slowly, the little blur of yellow stopped rotating. To the crowd's awe, it was now nestled snugly in a small crater.

There was a quiet thump as Fuji landed gracefully. His brown hair shone in a mock halo as he stood and bowed dramatically, one foot stepping back and the opposite arm sweeping across his chest. "Welcome to the underworld," he proclaimed, both to Dan and the thunderstruck audience. Only a select few were aware enough to notice the barely stifled laughter in the words.

"Fuji-senpai… he was planning all of this, wasn't he?" Momo said to no one in particular, a half-smile half-grimace on his face.

"It really is incredible what he's capable of when he actually puts effort into something," replied Oishi, an unnerved (but no less proud) smile twisting his lips up.

"Game and match, Seishun! Six games to love! This concludes the Tokyo Prefectural Finals, all players line up at the net."

As the tension in the air broke and the cheers broke out, the two teams faced walked up to face each other once more.

"For winning three matches to zero, Seishun Kokou will be Tokyo's representative during the Kanto Tournament."

"Thank you for the match!"

Straightening from their bows, both groups walked away. While one was a sea of consoling words and pats on the back, the other was filled with cheer and hyperactive teenage boys.

"Time for Taka-san's?" asked Kikumaru, bouncing excitedly on one spot.

"Ah, but first…" Momo put on a devious smile, directing it at Ryoma. "Kikumaru-senpai, we can't have a repeat of the other day, can we?"

"What're you talking about?" intervened the suspicious boy.

"Oh, don't mind, don't mind, Ochibi," reassured the redhead, a grin matching Momo's on his face as he slung one arm around his kouhai's shoulders. "Now!"

"Wh- agh!"

While the ever-unfortunate Ryoma was distracted by his energetic senpai, the team's trickster had pulled a large black duffel bag from the depths of his large tennis racquet case. Said duffel bag had:

Been thrown around a small teen,

Swept his feet off the ground,

Had its zipper tugged closed in one movement,

Held up against its unwilling occupant's struggles,

And gotten hauled onto a broad shoulder.

"Yosh!" called Momo, completely disregarding the bag on his shoulder's jerking and thrashing. "Media problem solved, Tezu- ow! Oi, brat, quit it!"

The young athlete had gotten the duffel bag to jerk straight into its holder's side. Hard.

"Listen, Echizen. If you want to get out of here without being hounded, stay still and _stop. Hitting. Me. _How 'bout I get Kikumaru-senpai to buy us burgers for a month, too?" There was a pause, then,

"Fine."

At the muffled reply Momo stood back up, satisfied. His satisfaction didn't last, though. Having apparently developed and perfected the technique to swinging his container, Ryoma chose that moment to deliver his upperclassman's comeuppance.

Nearly shouting over the teen's multiple (and exceedingly colorful) curses, Kikumaru pointed "seriously" in the direction of the exit. "Right! Let's go!"

~X~

Echizen Ryoma was beyond pissed. He _might_ have understood the need to get off the tennis garden grounds unnoticed, maybe just a little. However, he failed to see how carrying him (in that stupid, stupid bag) halfway to Kawamura Sushi was a necessity.

When his stupid, stupid senpai had finally released him onto the ground, he took the opportunity to firmly smack them both upside the head. Momo-senpai had just dodged a little. That, he told himself, was the reason he could barely reach the trickster's spiky head. Not. His. Height.

For the rest of the trip, he didn't say a word to any one of them, ignoring the urge to banter with Fuji about the previous massacre. However, if, for example, the brunet chose to instigate conversation himself, that was fine.

"So, Ryo-chan, what did you think? Are they a match for the world-wide champ?" laughed the feminine third year.

"Heh. Doubtful. We'll just have to find out some other time." The boy noted out of the corner of his eye that they were just a few yards from their destination.

"Pity, I really could use some excitement. That last game just didn't get my blood pumping." Fuji's voice took on a muffled quality as he ducked through the cloth in Kawamura Sushi's doorway.

"Yeah, that was way too easy," commented Ryoma as he stepped over the threshold.

"Now, now, we can't all be super-freaks, kiddo." Momo smiled teasingly as he followed suit. "But don't worry, once we get to Kanto, things'll heat up. Hell, even _you_ might find some challenges."

"Looking forward to it. Ne, Kawamura-senpai!" After his brusque reply, the boy turned to the shop's counter. Behind the display case of ingredients stood a burly teenager with brown hair and a kind face.

"Ah, hey everyone! You won, I'm guessing?" he inquired, setting down his knives.

"Takashi, are the guys here?" called a deep voice from further inside the shop.

"Yeah!" Kawamura shouted back over his shoulder.

"Let the rest of the customers finish up, then close the shop for the night!"

"Really?"

"Yeah." The level of the man's voice dropped as he stepped into the main shop. "Just make sure you get them something to eat; they're always hungry after matches, right?" At the last word of his sentence, Kawamura's father turned to the crowd of tennis players with a friendly smile.

A rowdy cheer of assent (coming mostly from two of the members) was the reply to his words.

"All right, you can go upstairs, just leave your shoes down here. I'll be right there."

Another general "yeah," and the sound of feet trampling up the staircase filled the restaurant.

As he ran up, the last save for Tezuka, Ryoma couldn't help but think, '_will these weird parties have gotten even weirder over the years?'_

~X~

As it so turned out, they had.

At first, they'd followed the usual routine, the disorderly shouting for food, the cheers as it arrived, and the general chaos. The only thing different from his memories was Kikumaru jumping (violently) onto Oishi at something the teen said and kissing him passionately on the mouth. And no one looked twice.

Momo was choking on a bite of wasabi sushi when the real curveball came around.

"Hoi hoi, minna-san!" shouted Kikumaru over the steady current of yelling. "We're playing a game now! Inui agreed to set us up with a nice healthy game of 'I Never!'"

…

"What?"

The nine high school students sat clustered around one of Kawamura Sushi's multiple tables. All eighteen eyes were transfixed on the unassuming jug waiting to be filled with liquid and the stack of crystal shot glasses.

To them, the jug and anything accompanying it was to be one part respected and two parts feared. All of Seishun (and the handful of unfortunate teams that had gotten caught up in their antics over the years) knew the dangers of the jug.

Their worst fears were confirmed when Inui walked in, a large martini shaker in one hand. As he tipped the silver beaker over, a clear, icy liquid similar to water (if only, if only) tumbled out.

"Now, since we are all underage here, we've no option but to play a dry version of 'I Never,'" he began, but was interrupted by a hand going up. "Yes, Momoshiro?"

"Eh… What's 'I Never?'"

"It's a popular drinking game. It is played by the participants taking turns at stating something they've never done. For example, 'I've never been out of the country.' I believe Echizen would be the only one drinking that round."

A drinking game? Ryoma remembered his father's warnings to '_stay away from that shit no matter what's going down. If you're ever caught looking even a little buzzed, the media'll rip you to pieces._' However, judging from the jug and Inui's serving of the "water," they'd be drinking something much more dangerous than beer. "You said it was dry. Then we're drinking…?" he asked suspiciously.

"A certain Inui juice of mine that I was just diluting for those among us whose tolerance level is low," replied the data master with an eerie smile.

"Which- Never mind, I don't want to know." Oishi paled midway through his sentence, looking slightly sick.

"Right, then. If everyone understands the traditional standards, I'll explain tonight's rules. Beginning with Kikumaru, we'll go clockwise around the table. Instead of taking a drink, you'll be required to take one shot of… Inui Juice Low Resistance Version 1.0, we'll call it. Last one standing wins."

A shudder of fear ran through the group as Inui passed out shot glasses and filled them. The game was on.

Kikumaru gulped. "Um… I've never gotten in a fistfight with someone, nya."

With matching "tch"s and glances at each other, Momo and Kaidoh raised their glasses and downed the liquid in one gulp. Both slammed the little cups onto the table, facedown, with looks of disgust. To most of the gathering's surprise, Fuji also gulped down his shot unflinchingly. As he set down his glass, also facedown, he smiled at the two juniors. "We all drank correctly. Have you two done this before? Naughty, naughty."

Both blushed slightly. "Doesn't matter," grunted Kaidoh as he tried to ignore the stares and (in one particular case) laughs.

"Is it my turn?" asked Oishi, hoping he'd be spared from one more round of drinking. Inui nodded. "I've never dated a girl…"

Momo quickly drank his second shot, only to choke at the fact that no one else was following suit. "Are you kidding me?" he shouted.

"Heeh… Momo-senpai, what happened while I was away? Did you finally ask out Tachibana's little sister?" teased the team's youngest member with a sly grin.

"M-maybe…" replied the sheepish trickster (1). "Oi, don't change the subject! Of the four shots taken, two of them were mine! You can't do that, no you can't!"

"Momoshiro, it's only been two rounds, calm down," ordered Tezuka.

However, he'd brought up an interesting point. Who should be targeted? Fuji had gotten himself mixed up in all kinds of crazy things over the years, but a low-potency Inui Juice would have no effect on him. Ryoma had a low tolerance for Inui Juice _and_ he'd experienced quite a bit. Momo was just fun to irritate. Choices, choices.

"Fine." Momo looked none too happy as he put on his thinking face. "I've never been mistaken for a girl," he said with an evil grin.

This only applied to two members: the genius and the rookie. The latter took his first shot, grimacing as he threw it back.

"All right, my turn," smirked Ryoma... in an ominous, "I'll get you for that" manner. A few of those wondered which type of question he'd ask, who he'd target. "I've never driven a car." Well, there was that approach, too.

"You little _brat!_" shouted several of the members. Ryoma was the only one present still under the age of sixteen, and therefore the only one present able to say such a thing.

With various shudders, grumbles, and curses, the whole team (sans "the brat") drank.

"Mada mada dane."

"I'm up next. I've never kissed another man." Inui smiled deviously as he spoke. The other eight teenagers could practically hear '_Ii data_' ringing throughout the restaurant.

Kikumaru, Oishi, Fuji, and… Kawamura all reached for their glasses. Kikumaru and Oishi had been kissing ten minutes ago and no one knew what Fuji did in his spare time, (the brunet, on the other hand, had fond flashbacks to Ryoma's dorm room one particular evening) but _Kawamura?_ Several chokes sounded at that one.

"It wasn't on purpose!" he exclaimed, waving his hands and blushing furiously.

"Well, well, well, Taka-san…" said the redheaded acrobat, sliding one arm over his friend's shoulders. "I didn't know you batted for the other team, too," he said in a mock-sensual voice, eyes narrowing slyly.

"Taka-san, you still haven't drank your shot," pointed out Oishi, attempting to save the flustered teen from his lover's grasp.

"Ah, r-right," replied Kawamura, once again reaching for the small glass of clear liquid. "_Burninnngggg!_" With flames appearing in place of his eyes and one hand forming a fist, he drank all of the IJLRV 1.0 in one swallow. He proceeded to pass out, flat on his back.

_One participant drops out_.

Fuji smiled. "Looks like Inui Juice is something you can build – and lose – a resistance for."

"Fshhuuu… I've never stolen someone's bike."

"You're still on about that? It's been two freaking years! I didn't even steal it!"

"Just shut up and take the-"

The two rival's bickering was cut off by the sound of glass hitting the table and a slight gasp for air. Ryoma had just knocked back another shot (2).

"Oi, oi, Echizen… When did you…?" Momo trailed off, stopped by the boy's small hand going up in his face.

"I'm not required to say. Now you take yours."

The junior shrugged. "I'll drink to that… Ugh… gods above that's awful." Looking at the stoic brunet next to him, Momo spoke again. "Buchou, it's your turn."

Tezuka sighed. "… I've never been tackled by Kikumaru."

…Of course.

All but Kikumaru (one couldn't tackle oneself, after all) drank. Most had gained a bit of pallor by now, and looked like they were trying not to gag. The acrobat, being the only talkative one prepared to speak, piped up "Hoi, hoi! Fujiko, it's your turn!"

"Saa… I've never been called an idiot."

There was a groan. '_Only Fuji…_' Everyone had been called an idiot at least once in their lives. Even Tezuka, growing up in a strict household, was able to say that.

Seven small glasses thumped down on the table.

"God damn… that was my fifth shot!" complained Momo.

"Quit your whining, lightweight," muttered Kaidoh.

"What're you saying, Mamushi? We're not even drinking!" the spiky-haired teen retorted.

"Maa, maa, you two," soothed Kikumaru, pushing the two faces away from each other. "No fighting, we're celebrating tonight. Now, my turn again! Let's see… I've never, ever, ever, not even once gotten to go to Hokkaido, nya! Isn't it unfair?"

A few of them laughing at the senior's antics, Fuji, Inui, Oishi, Tezuka, and Ryoma downed another shot.

As he set his glass down, Inui cleared his throat. "Since we've only had one elimination and we need more juice, I'll be upping the stakes. We'll now be using Inui Hyper Remix Juice."

Silence.

"_No!_" The team shot to their feet, slamming their hands down on the table.

"Oh? I can always just give all the quitters a glass and we can head home." The tall man had drawn out a bubbling jug of the vile liquid from God-knows-where, and he now set it on the table for all to see.

"Tch…" Ryoma swept his bangs away from his face. "Fine." The young star sat down, and the others soon followed.

"Good," said the data man with a sinister grin. "This should go by much quicker. Oishi, if you will."

"Erm… I… I've never been at the top of my class," stated the mother-hen, trying to find a question that would only apply to those who could withstand Inui Juice.

Sure enough, only Tezuka and Fuji grabbed a glass, and sure enough, they both withstood it. "I recommend it," hummed the prodigy.

"Am I next?" inquired Momo. At the nods, he smiled. "Echizen, you're going down. I've never met Nadal face-to-face."

Sending his senpai a death glare out of the corner of his eye, Ryoma slowly reached for his glass. "Kampai," he muttered, knocking it back. The others watched with bated breath as he flinched, choked, and fell over, not even twitching.

Inui checked his pulse (which had slowed drastically) as he laughed somewhat maniacally. "Out cold. Just like old times…"

~X~

A pair of golden eyes blinked sleepily at the evening sun invading them and a small, pale hand rubbed their closed eyelids. The owner stepped groggily through a door, kicking off his sneakers. Apparently, the game hadn't lasted much longer after he'd passed out. It had quickly gotten down to Tezuka, Fuji, and Inui, all of which could stomach the awful drink. Deciding it was time to get back to the dorms, Fuji had called a (large- very, very large) cab and the three had loaded their teammates in. Needless to say, they received several strange looks from the driver while doing so.

Ten minutes later, Tezuka had shaken everyone awake as they pulled up to T-V-1.

Now, the team was slowly filtering into their home, some talking of going in the onsen to clean up and others speculating as to how many seconds it would take them in bed to fall asleep.

"Oi, Echizen, sounds like we're going in the onsen. You coming?" asked Momo, stifling a yawn.

"Sure. Be down in a sec…" replied Ryoma as he trudged up the stairs. A trip to the onsen would feel nice. In the month since he'd moved in, he'd only seen it. However, the steam and the hot water would… okay, so even if he _wasn't _sweaty or tense, hot water always felt good.

He swung his door open carelessly, slamming the palm of his hand on the sensor that would turn on the ceiling…lights…whatever category they fell in.

As soon as they illuminated the room, the tennis player froze. Someone was in _his_ room, sitting on _his_ beanbag chair, and reading _his_ tennis magazine. _Two_ someones, actually. Another was lounging nonchalantly against the back wall.

"What the…?"

"Yo, Chibisuke."

* * *

><p><strong>Hm. I wonder who it could <strong>_**possibly**_** be.**

**I don't hate poor little Dan (may he rest in peace), but jeez I hate listening to him talk. All those stupid desu's.**

**Ahh, counters. You can pull them out of absolutely nowhere and still rest assured that the canon is just as ridiculous.**

**I'm lazy and didn't want to keep writing, "he served the ball," so I introduced Tilde the Timeskip (this little guy: ~). Remember, "~X~" shows different in setting and/or longer timeskip. Tilde flashes past a minute or so (so I can be lazy).**

**Also, yes I know that the driving age in Japan is 18, but I DON'T CARE!**

**(1) AHHH! Quick, take a picture! It's a **_**HET**_** pair!**

**(2) If you wanna know the story, tell me. I'll put one together.**


	12. Additions to the Family

Here We Go Again

Chapter Eleven: Additions to the Family

* * *

><p>"Hell no."<p>

"Come on, Chibisuke, it'll be fun."

"Yadda."

"Ryoma, give it up; it won't be that bad. I'm going to be here now, too, and you used to see him way more than you're going to with this arrangement."

"Yadda."

"Meh. It doesn't matter. I've got the principal's go-ahead, so I'm doing it anyways."

"I said, 'yadda!'"

"Now you're making me feel bad, and we haven't seen each other in so long."

"Che. What, like a month or two matters?"

"Of course it does, you're my little brother! Haven't you missed your aniki?"

"You already know what his answer to that will be, Ryoga."

"Not really."

"See?"

"So cold, so cold. Well, either way, you're stuck with me!"

"And me!"

"Yadda!"

"Mada mada daze, Chi-bi-su-ke."

"Baka aniki."

"Heeh? What was that? Can you repeat that, Chibisuke?"

"Ack! Lemme go!"

"Ryo-chan? Where are you, we're going in the onsen!"

"Huh? Who's that?"

"Fuji-senpai! In here; help!"

The brunet entered Ryoma's room to find a very strange scene. Ryoma was a few yards away from the door, being held in a headlock by… a larger version of Ryoma?

Watching the scene was a short teenager with oval sunglasses perched on chin length golden hair. Blue-gray eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed at the room's other occupant's banter from Ryoma's beanbag chair.

"Oh, I remember you! You were one of the guys on Sakurafubuki's ship way back when!" It was only at those words that everything clicked.

"Echizen Ryoga?"

The man dropped his little brother, tossing a mock salute at Fuji. "At your service."

"What are you doing in our dorm?" A valid question when someone you'd met once, two years ago no less, suddenly appears in your home.

"Chibisuke's manager sent me and Kevin to keep an eye on him while he's in Japan. Can't have my charge wandering off to the other side of the world again," Ryoga stated coolly, smirking slightly.

"Your charge?"

"Che." The younger of the brothers spoke up. "Baka aniki's my personal trainer, since oyaji doesn't want to bother with more than a match now and then."

Had Fuji's eyes been open, he would've blinked. How had they managed to even find the elder Echizen brother, much less convince him to be Ryoma's trainer? As far as he knew, the man was a drifter who didn't like being tied down.

"Heeh? Did you already forget, Chibisuke? I'm not just _your_ trainer anymore," teased Ryoga, snatching his little brother's hat off of his head and placing it sideways on his own green locks.

Slightly puzzled, (but no less amused at the brothers' antics) Fuji posed another question. Being out of the loop wasn't a particularly enjoyable experience… "Who else are you training, then, Ryoga-san?"

The man turned his playful gaze away from his short brother who was attempting to reclaim the hat he was holding. "All of you guys. Principal-san was all too happy to 'have _the_ Echizen Ryoga train our wayward club,'" Ryoga replied, putting air quotes around the last phrase. "Although, the only reason I'm '_the_ Echizen Ryoga' is because the media doesn't know how anyone puts up with Chibisuke here." Apparently having an affinity for it, Ryoma's older brother put the unfortunate boy in another headlock.

Over the protests, complaints, and curses, Fuji thought about the implications of what he'd just learned. Ryoma's older brother was going to be their _coach_, their guide, supporter, and mentor, for their last (and possibly most important) year together. It wasn't such a scary thought, until he realized the most important fact. _The bolder, crazier, and older version of Ryoma… was supposed to fill Ryuzaki-sensei's place._

Well, it would most certainly be interesting to watch. He'd just _have_ to get more memory for his camera.

Strangely enough, it wasn't the noise that snapped the genius out of his contemplation, but the lack thereof. Apparently, Ryoga had said something to his little brother that had calmed him down and/or irritated him into submission.

"Che."

"Oi, Chibisuke, has anyone ever told you that you say 'che' far too much? They should; you sound very mean," chided Echizen the elder.

"Why does it even matter to-" The short teenager began to retaliate, the gleam in his eyes indicating willingness (and intention) to turn this into a full-blown argument. Or tantrum, if need be. Luckily for the building and all its inhabitants, the two quarreling tennis stars were split up by Fuji.

"Maa, maa. Let's all just calm down, ne? Ryo-chan-"

"You'd better be talking about Chibisuke," interrupted Ryoga.

The brunet laughed lightly. "Sorry, sorry. Forgot that there are two Ryo's here. I am, though. Why don't you come to the onsen with everyone, we can explain to them what's going on. Echizen-san-"

"Ryoga or Ryoga-kun's fine," the man interjected again, waving one hand.

Fuji smiled even wider. Apparently, something in the Echizen family genes made them unafraid of him. It was refreshing. "Ryoga-kun, you and Kevin-kun can stay here until dinner, I suppose."

The oldest among them shrugged noncommittally as Kevin glanced up from his magazine. "Fine by me," said the blond.

"Ryoma, let's go." As he spoke, Fuji opened the door, politely gesturing for the freshman to exit.

"Che. Stay here and don't touch my stuff," he said in an irritated voice, turning to his brother and friend as he walked out.

"Have fu~un," yelled Kevin in a singsong voice as the door slammed shut.

~X~

"Why do we have to wear swimsuits? It's an onsen."

Ryoma was leaning on wall, waiting for Fuji to finish changing. After the briefest of pauses, the older teen's voice floated over from behind a small wall of lockers. "It isn't a school rule, it's one that Tezuka enforced once Eiji and Oishi came out of the closet."

The dark haired boy blinked once, then his eyes widened as he caught his senpai's meaning. "Oh."

"Yeah, '_oh._'" Fuji smiled as he rounded the corner, swim trunks on and towel slung over his shoulder. Ryoma appraised him discreetly. Last time he'd seen Fuji without his shirt on, he'd been too unsettled to see the faint lines tracing muscles on the brunet's pale, lithe frame. For someone so thin, Fuji sure was fit. '_Then again_', he thought, glancing down at his own toned chest, '_I guess skinny doesn't always mean weak._'

"Ryo-chan, you coming?"

The boy blinked. During his out-of-the-blue (and extremely weird) contemplation on muscles, his companion had walked over to the entrance to the onsen. "Ah, yeah."

The duo stepped out into the slight evening chill, one of them looking around curiously. The team's onsen was traditional looking, lined with stones and screened from the outside world by a wooden fence (a fence that Ryoma blessed, Kami-sama knows what would happen if it wasn't there). A small artificial waterfall splashed quietly in a secluded corner of the pool, underneath which Tezuka was meditating. A few small cherry blossom trees dotted the interior, and the leaves of some maples could be seen behind the barrier of dark wood. The only thing unorthodox about the hot spring was the crowd of energetic teenage boys occupying it.

"Oi! Echizen!" shouted Momo from the far end of the steaming pool, waving one arm vigorously. "Get in or Eiji-senpai and I are coming to get you!"

"Give me a second!" Ryoma called back.

He slipped into the water, sighing quietly at the feel of hot water surrounding him. "Ne, buchou! I need to tell you something," the boy called over to where his captain meditated under the waterfall.

The brunet opened his eyes, nodded, and slipped into the pool proper. Walking over (as well as one could walk when in waist-high water) to where the youngest member of his team stood, he asked, "What is it?"

"My idiot brother showed up in my room, and so did Kevin. Apparently baka aniki is our new coach and peroxide head is thinking of becoming our manager."

Apparently managing to follow the boy's vague explanation, Tezuka nodded once. "I'll speak to the principal tomorrow; thank you."

"No problem," Ryoma replied absentmindedly, already turning warily to where his two energetic upperclassmen were waving impatiently. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

He swam away, (walking was too troublesome in such high water) leaving the captain to return to his much-needed meditation.

"Nice of you to grace us with your presence, ou-ji-sa-ma," mocked Momo, drawing out the word.

The small teen blinked, looking up at his upperclassman. "You're noisy. Where'd Kikumaru-senpai go?"

"O-_chi_-bi!"

Well, that answered that. The redhead was waving spasmodically from his perch on Oishi's shoulders, and would surely have fallen into the water had someone less sturdy and balanced been supporting him.

"What are you doing, Oishi-senpai, Kikumaru-senpai?" he called over through the steam.

"Chicken fight!" came the cheery reply.

"Chicken… _Ah!_"

The surprised boy looked down to see his legs resting on Momo-senpai's shoulders, with the trickster's strong arms wrapped around his shins. "Let go of me, idiot!" he yelled, thumping Momo soundly upside the head.

"Come on, it's all in good fun, Echizen," said Momo, laughing it off.

"Yosh, enough talk!" yelled Kikumaru, putting on a (fake) serious face. "Oishi, _charge!_"

"Oh-! Here they come, Echizen!"

"What! Ah! _Son_ of a-"

_Splash._

~X~

Re-introductions over and done with, the eight regulars sat in the large kitchen with the newcomers, discussing the situation over dinner… Seigaku style.

There was general mayhem and pandemonium, barely contained by the occasional threat from Tezuka, even before Ryoga and Kevin made their… announcements.

"What? Are you serious?" yelled Momo through a mouthful of rice as he dropped his chopsticks.

Across the table, Ryoga smirked at the varying degrees of shock pointing his way. "Totally. I've got to watch out for my little brother, and if that means coaching you guys, fine."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Momo shouted, (again) his mouth noticeably less full of rice this time.

Completely ignoring the junior, Ryoga turned to the rest of the household with an offhand grin. "I plan on getting your team to National Finals, and I'll be damned if you don't win once you're there,"

"Unyah! Oishi, isn't that great? Ochibi's aniki is going to be our coach! Won't it be fun, nya?" asked Kikumaru as he bounced enthusiastically in his chair.

"Yeah, it sounds like we're in for one memorable year," the teen replied with a smile. He then turned to the elder Echizen, lowering his head and shoulders in a half-bow. "Please take care of us, Ryoga-san."

"Huh? Yeah, sure."

A deep voice from the head of the table ("the daddy's place," as Kikumaru dubbed it) interrupted their semi-formalities. "Excuse me, Echizen-san, but where will you be staying?"

"Eh? Well, lucky for you, I'll be getting my own place, but Kevin's going to be shacking up here."

"Oi, Ryoga, what do you mean shacking up? I'm living here now, you were with me when I enrolled!"

At that moment, several teens found themselves marveling at the uncanny talent that the Echizen family had for pissing people off.

"Wait, Smith-san-"

"Kevin, I'm American," interjected the blond indifferently, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Uh, Kevin," Oishi corrected himself, struggling slightly in pronouncing the foreign name. "You're staying here? I'm sorry, but we don't have any extra rooms."

"Peroxide head can just double up with someone, right?" asked Ryoma, sipping his Ponta lazily.

"I told you, it's my natural color!" yelled said peroxide head, looking extremely aggravated.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," drawled his friend, eyes sparkling in mischievous amusement.

"Since you two know each other, can't Kevin room with you, Ochibi?" Kikumaru jumped in, having finished his food.

"No!"

The two chorused, both sitting up from their lax positions. At the raised eyebrows that their vehement rejections won, each launched into their own explanations.

"I'll go nuts if I room with this-"

"I was stuck rooming with so many other kids-"

"-and he wakes up _way_ too early-"

"-_nothing _makes him happy-"

"-don't want him messing with my stuff-"

"-I hate having to share a room-"

"-and I want my own room!"

The two glanced at each other in irritation as they both finished their respective tirades with the same words.

The room was completely silent, half of the occupants trying to find out what was just said and the other half were gaping at Ryoma, who was the absolute _last_ person you'd expect on a tirade.

Suddenly, a bubble of soft laughter began pealing from one side of the table. The source was none other than resident genius/devil, Fuji Syuusuke. "I've got to say, that was impressive. Did you plan it?" Seeing no answer forthcoming, the brunet continued. "What I got from it was that Ryo-chan would get irritated if they room together, as will Kevin. However, it sounded like Kevin had another reason. Care to elaborate?"

"…I just had to stay in this foster home with five million kids while my dad was on trial for abuse," muttered Kevin, an angry expression on his face. "Mrs. Echizen put him away, and said I could stay with her family and eventually come to school here. I _really_ didn't want to live in the dorms, but it's mandatory. Figured staying with you lot (1) was better than people I don't know." By the time his explanation was finished, the young teen's voice had regained its usual vigor.

Fuji's smile turned thoughtful for a moment before he spoke again. "Hm… If that's the case, I've got a solution."

~X~

Ryoma, usually skilled in the art of witty and/or irritating remarks, found his mind in a dumbstruck loop

_How did it come to this?_

_How did it come to this?_

_How. Did. It. Come. To. This._

The freshman had first gone through an extremely interesting practice, with his older brother in charge…

_Flashback_

_A quick, shrill whistle broke through the air, drawing the attention of the fifty or so teenage boys assembled on the tennis courts. "Alright, I'll make this quick," announced a tall, handsome man with dark hair and laughing eyes. "For those of you who don't already know, my name is Echizen Ryoga. To stop all stupid questions, yes, I'm Chibisuke's older brother." _

_The saddest part was that no one had to ask who "Chibisuke" was._

"_I'm also your new coach, want to see you win the National Tournament, don't put up with any bullshit, and am not afraid to whip you into shape. Now, one last thing before we get this practice going. This is Kevin Smith, though it'd be Smith Kevin here, he's from America but speaks Japanese fluently- that means he'll understand every word you say about him. He's a new club member and will also be our manager." _

_Managing to look only _slightly_ bored, the blond bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Just Kevin's fine. Nice to meet you."_

_A few of the members responded, and most smiled or nodded back. _

"_Now," continued Ryoga. "What's this Inui keeps telling me about juice?"_

_Flashback End_

The boy sighed, remembering the chaos that followed those fateful words. He lay in bed, lights off and hair still slightly dampening the pillow beneath him. Across the room, the small chest with the pictures of him was absent, and he knew that it sat downstairs next to his desk where a small couch used to be. In its place was a neatly made bed with a plain wooden nightstand at the foot.

He glared at the unassuming additions to his room, knowing full well that they represented hell for him. What's more, it just so happened that the ruler of this hell had just slid the patio door open and stepped inside, bringing a cool breeze with him.

The silhouette moved towards the newly added bed and slipped in, making the covers rustle.

God have mercy on him.

God, _please_ have mercy on him.

The teen rolled onto his stomach, knowing (but getting the strangest feeling to the contrary) that his new roommate couldn't see his twitching eye.

They were in for a memorable year, Oishi had said. Damn straight they were.

"Good night, Ryo-chan."

* * *

><p><strong>Hahahaha… Who saw that coming? Either way, this will be one hell of a year for poor little Ryoma and his new roommate.<strong>

**Yea suckuhz, it's Ryoga! … Oh yeah, and Kevin… But RYOGA! I reaaally hope my personality for him is good, because now that we might actually get to know him in NPoT, I can't just make him however I want… Oh, right, he's not dating Kevin, or anyone for that matter. Come on, the one time we see him with girls, he looks straight as a board and you know it (even if you [no one] likes it).**

**(1) AH! He sounds British! Rest assured that I'm from the States, though. U-S-A! U-S-A! O~h say can you see!**


	13. Daily Life

**I'm sure most of you noticed, but my brainchild just hit a huge milestone the other day! Yes, HWGA has recently gotten its 100****th**** review! *Applause* Congrats to ShamelesslyUsed for being the lucky reviewer, and thank you to everyone who helped me get to this point (my beta, readers, subscribers, etc)! I LLL-OVE YA! Here's to another 100, ne?**

**Also, I'm sorry this was a few hours late. I didn't finish writing it in time, and Self still needed to beta it. Hopefully it won't happen again ^^;**

* * *

><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twelve: Daily Life

* * *

><p>Ryoma's golden eyes and ruffled hair poked out from beneath the covers, sparkling in the dim morning sunlight. Glancing over at the clock, he groaned internally at the numbers 6:14 shining back at him. It was far too early (for him) to be up, yet there wasn't enough time to fall back asleep properly. He groaned, flopping onto his back again. He could already tell it would be one of <em>those<em> mornings…

The patio door slid open quietly, breaking the heady silence. "Ah, you're awake, Ryo-chan?"

And then there was that.

The boy grunted unintelligibly, pulling the covers firmly back over his head. Unfortunately, Fuji (his new freaking _roommate_) apparently felt like denying him his warm, blissful I'm-not-getting-up-yet time.

"Now, now. You've got to get up, we've got practice." The brunet had ripped the blankets down with surprising force and was now shaking Ryoma's shoulder.

Grunt.

"Would it help if I said please?"

Grunt.

"Hm… You're rather stubborn. What to do…?" Fuji's voice stopped, trailing off with the singsong question. Less than a minute later, it returned. "It was your choice."

He barely had the chance to think, '_oh, hell…' _before a wave of icy cold washed over him. Spluttering, coughing, and cursing a blue streak, Ryoma looked up through his wet strands of hair to see his senpai standing at the foot of his bed, a bucket in hand (Lord knows where he got it).

"What're you doing?" he yelled looking down at his soaking torso… body… bed. Fuji had actually dumped a bucket of cold water on him. What. The hell.

"I'm waking you up," the brunet replied pleasantly. "Now, you should go dry off and get dressed. I'll be downstairs, making breakfast."

Ryoma gulped. Now _there _was incentive to get downstairs quickly. The whole house knew that Fuji was an excellent cook… when he wanted to be. The main problem was that he almost _never_ wanted to be, instead choosing to cook according to his own strange tastes.

He bolted upright, jumped out of bed, and hurried into the bathroom (he _did_ take extra care to slam the door, though).

Once inside, he toweled off quickly, rubbing the wet green mop that was his hair. He threw on his practice jersey and pulled up his hair, already feeling some excess water seeping through his shirt.

Ryoma grabbed his bag and, throwing it over one shoulder, left his room. Before he went downstairs, he ran over to Momo's room and kicked the door loudly, waking the junior up with his usual method. "Get your ass out of bed!"

Ignoring the crashes and yells coming from behind the door, presumably from said junior falling onto the floor, Ryoma headed downstairs. He strode down the hallway, looking for any signs that the brunet had begun to cook. Thankfully none of the telltale clatters or smells drifted from the kitchen. All the same, when he stepped into the room, it was with extreme caution.

This caution only increased his urge to face-palm when he was met with the sight of Fuji calmly eating a bowl of cereal. His eyes opened slightly as his head and shoulders were thrown back slightly. "Huh?

"Oi, Ryoma. You're blocking the way," a finger flicked the back of his head as a playful voice called out behind him. Kevin stood behind him, all smiles and fully clothed in a brand new tennis uniform.

"How are you so energetic…?" he muttered by way of response, stepping out of the blonde's path.

"I'm healthy and get to bed at a reasonable time," the American replied with a teasing smile and a raised eyebrow.

"I go to sleep at the same time as you, though," the smaller teen deadpanned.

"Hm. And you're sure that you're not narcoleptic?"

"Yes, I'm-" Ryoma was cut by off his friend throwing an arm lightheartedly around his shoulders, goofy grin plastered across his face.

"I'm joking, I'm joking. Now come on, I'm hungry!" Pushing and pulling, Kevin led the still bleary-eyed Ryoma over to the table. "Oi, Fuji-san, can you pass the cereal and milk here? Otherwise this guy's going to collapse in the next five minutes."

"I can get breakfast on my own, thanks." Grabbing the cereal from Kevin's hand, the boy plunked down on his seat and poured it into his bowl.

After his stomach was full enough to let his brain function, he began actually paying attention to his surroundings. Inui and Kaidoh had arrived and were discussing a new training menu, while Kevin and Fuji were now in a conversation about school.

"I'm going to be in class 1-A with Ryoma, I think," said the blond, glancing over to the dark haired boy as he did so. "Hey, you're alive again!"

"Shut up…" Ryoma replied tersely. After all, being awake didn't mean being in the mood to banter so early in the morning.

Fuji laughed before turning once more to his new little brother (Kikumaru still refused any claims that they weren't a fraternity). "And you've got all your books and things already?"

"Yeah."

The brunet nodded, letting the room fall into a comfortable silence as everyone ate. After a few minutes of spoons clattering on bowls, Kikumaru and Oishi walked into the kitchen. The redhead immediately pulled both freshmen into a bear hug and started chatting animatedly.

Smiling at his partner's cheer, Oishi turned to the rest of the team. "Tezuka had to leave early to speak to the principal, so he left me in charge of getting everyone there on time and starting morning practice. We should leave in about five-"

"Sorry, I'm here!"

All heads turned to the sight of a hassled-looking Momo bursting through the doorway, bag hanging haphazardly from his shoulder and racquet in one hand. Nearly as one, the room's occupants burst into laughter.

Smirking at the look of confusion on his upperclassman's face, Ryoma walked up to the teen, thumping him on the back. "We noticed. Come on, Momo-senpai, time to go to practice."

"What? But…? How are you here before me?" The poor junior, still half asleep, was looking extremely confused by now.

"Mada mada dane."

"Oi, brat! Get back here!" Momo yelled, completely forgetting breakfast (one could always eat in class, after all).

"I'm guessing that's our sign that it's time to go?" Kevin asked, laughing as he got up from his seat.

"More or less," Fuji replied cheerfully. "Come on, everyone."

Realizing what he was supposed to be doing, Oishi began taking up Tezuka's usual task of rounding the teens up and getting them out the door.

The teammates began their walk to school, talking and bickering happily. As they made their way closer to the main building, their paths crossed that of other athletes, all grudgingly heading towards their own morning practices.

When they were more than half of the way there, Ryoma found himself being engulfed into a crushing from-the-side-glomp, courtesy of Kikumaru. "Ne, ne, Ochibi! Your brother was just as scary as Ryuuzaki-sensei was! But he's also nice, nya… Either way, he's a really tough trainer! No wonder you're so good!"

The boy tugged his cap down irately, winding his arm around both of the redhead's. "I was doing fine before he agreed to the job, Kikumaru-senpai. Now let me go." Without mercy, he dug his elbow into his upperclassman's sweet spot, smirking slightly as the teen immediately fell off, yelping.

"Unyah!" yelled the senior, stretching the two syllables out. "Why would you do that? Ochibi's mean in the morning! Oishi!"

It was with a sadistic satisfaction that Ryoma watched Kikumaru bounce/limp off, crying for his boyfriend.

"There is something seriously wrong with you; that was just morally wrong," commented Kevin as he fell into step with his friend.

"He deserved it."

The blond blinked at the dark haired boy's uncharacteristically vindictive statement, then shuddered. "Remind me to never make you mad on one of your bad mornings. Or, you know, mornings in general."

Grunt.

Well used to how volatile the teen could be in the morning, Kevin simply smiled at the oh-so-eloquent reply. "I'll shut up, then."

The two walked in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, until the sounds of chatter and tennis balls reached their ears. Knowing the courts would now be in sight, Ryoma looked up. Unfortunately, his brother's voice was the first thing to assault his senses once he did so.

"Oi! Hurry it up there!" The tall man was standing in the first court, waving with one arm. "Where's kid captain?"

Apparently, Inui was the only one to decipher Ryoga's strange nickname, as he was the only one to respond. "Tezuka went to confer with Sawada-kouchou about your new position before practice. He should be arriving in four-point-two minutes."

Too stunned by his captain's new name, (and his upperclassman's… eccentricity, to say the least) Ryoma almost missed his brother's announcement. "The last one to put away his bag and run twenty laps gets the first juice of the day!"

"Oi!" the boy yelled as he scrambled to catch up with the rest of the spooked team.

_God damn it, aniki._

~X~

A single lock of greenish black hair was twisted around his slender finger as he yawned deeply. Why couldn't Ayaka-sensei just get attendance over with so he could start sleeping?

His reminder as to why just happened to come with the sound of the classroom door being slid open, the words, "Meet your new classmate," and a workbook being thrown at his head. Today was really not shaping up to be his day.

His head snapped up indignantly. "Ouch! The heck was that for?"

"Oi, Ryoma! Wake your lazy ass up! You're getting introduced to me!" Looking amused and smug, Kevin stood in the doorway. The American was relaxing from a post-throw stance, all but shouting that he'd been the book thrower.

"You, huh?" Pretending to appraise his friend for a moment, Ryoma nestled his head back into his arms. "Thanks but no thanks, peroxide head."

"I _told_ you, it's my natural color!"

As they watched the peculiar exchange, several of the teens in the room sweat dropped. Several more followed suit when the newcomer hurled _another _book at their (usually) composed and quiet classmate. The boy shot up from his chair this time, and began shouting in fast, angry English. Though no one could understand the heated words, they'd be right in guessing that they weren't exactly classroom appropriate.

As the blond teen began to shout back, also in flawless English, the teacher finally stepped in, coughing pointedly. "Excuse me, Smith-san, Echizen-kun. While you two obviously know each other, I'm assuming that the rest of the class is wondering why there's a foreigner arguing with their classmate.

Huffing, Ryoma flopped down in his chair. Those sitting nearby could hear him muttering what was probably more curse words in several languages.

"Alright, everyone! Now that their little show is over, I'd like to introduce you to Smith Kevin-san, a new transfer student from America," announced Ayaka-sensei cheerfully.

Waving lightly, Kevin gave the class a cheeky grin. "Nice to meet you, you can call me just Kevin if you like, everyone else does."

"Smith-san, you'll be sitting to the left of Horio-kun. Horio-kun, can you raise your hand, please?"

Doing so, the loudmouth proclaimed, "I remember you! You were on the American team back in middle school! With my five years of tennis experience, I'm sure you'd love to play me some time!"

The blond raised his eyebrows, glancing at Ryoma as he walked towards the empty desk that would soon be his. Barely looking up, the other boy shook his head slightly. "_Ignore him,"_ could practically be heard echoing in Kevin's head.

He sat down, placing a notebook and a pen on the desktop. Then he remembered what subject he had first period. English. Great.

Five minutes later, the blond's soft snores added to those of his friend.

~X~

Ryoma managed to stay awake for science class during fourth period, not wanting to miss his favorite subject, but staying awake meant putting up with a whole lot of shit.

Horio was blurting out answers, the vast majority of which were wrong.

Tomoka was insisting on correcting him in an equally loud voice.

Peroxide head kept braiding strands of Ryoma's ponytail together, simply for entertainment (though Ryoma had no clue how, where, or _why_ Kevin learned to braid hair).

And finally, his stomach was grumbling and all he could think about lunch next period.

Needless to say, science was on the fast track to being his least favorite subject. But no matter how idiotic his classmates got, he could always zone them out to listen to his teacher with mild interest (highest praise to the man for getting that level of attentiveness from the teen).

As the lecture came to a close, the sound of books being shut and chairs scraping against the floor filled the classroom. Students chattered happily as they either sat down with their friends or left to eat in a different part of the school.

Ryoma (part of the latter group) stood lazily and walked out, pausing on his way out the door to make sure Kevin saw him in case the blond chose to follow. Sure enough, his friend joined him within a minute. As they made their way up to the roof, they also met up with Momo, who would usually eat with his kohai.

The trio set out their lunches near the edge of the roof and began eating, occasionally exchanging words. It was only at a particular question of Momo's that Ryoma actually started listening, though.

"…color is your class for tomorrow?"

Kevin thought for a moment then said in reply, "I think Ayaka-sensei said it was black."

"What're you talking about?" asked the absent-minded teen.

"Jeez, you really don't know how to listen, do you brat?" asked the trickster with a long-suffering sigh.

"We're talking about what our class is wearing for tomorrow," replied Kevin with a grin. "To think that they have Field Day on my second day in school. Lucky, huh?"

...

"Field Day?"

~X~

"Goal!"

Several teenagers in blue, red, or green tracksuits watched sympathetically as a much smaller group of nine collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. One smaller teen wearing blue shorts and a matching jacket looked at the prone forms.

"Am I the only one who finds all these ties spooky?"

The answer would be _no._

"Alright you bums, stand up and _line_ up. I've got an announcement," called the new coach, Echizen Ryoga.

"Hai!" chorused most of the team, (the Regulars went with a noticeably lower amount of energy and higher amount of complaints) rushing to their spots. This new instructor was a largely unknown quantity, after all.

"Alright, listen up! This applies to all of you and I'm not repeating myself! Tomorrow's practices will be cancelled thanks to Field Day, so if you show up here tomorrow morning, don't expect anyone to be here." Noticing the cheers that went up at the words "Field Day," Ryoga smirked. _Get out of four hours of practice; end up running a__round all day instead. Very cheer-worthy._

As the lines dispersed and Inui set up the old colored-ball-and-cone drill for the Regulars, (nothing like the basics, after all) Ryoma strolled up to Kevin, who was speaking to Fuji again.

"Am I the only one questioning the fact that a high school has _Field Day?_ The last one I had was in elementary school, back in America," the ambiguous boy commented.

Fuji's smile widened slightly. "We thought the same thing when we first got here two years ago. The school hosts several festivals and activities throughout the year, presumably as a reward for the students' good grades."

Translation: _We're smart so we can afford to lose a few days._

"Usually, some students from the artisan dorms will sit out, though, and just cheer for their friends." As the genius finished his explanation, he laughed inwardly at the "are you shitting me" face that Ryoma was currently wearing. _How cute._

"Oi, Chibisuke! Stop socializing and get over here! You and Kikumaru are up first!"

Seeing his brother in his trainer mode, the boy complied. _This time,_ he thought, _I'll complete the drill for sure_. Inui had a particularly large cooler with him today.

~X~

Ryoma sat on his bed, reading over a passage of Shakespeare that his class had been assigned to translate as best they could. Ryoma already knew of the passage and its meaning, but it was still an interesting piece of literature. Placing his books on the shelf next to him, he decided to actually listen to Kikumaru and head down to dinner. If he'd timed it right, then Momo and Kaidoh would've already gotten into their first dinnertime fight, and Oishi or Tezuka would've separated them. That meant that it was safe to grab food and eat it without ending up covered in your meal.

He slammed the door of his room shut and skidded down the slide, (the thing was really growing on him) not breaking pace as he walked to the kitchen. That is, until he identified the smell wafting towards him.

Pizza.

"Shit!" he cursed, breaking into a run. The entire household was well aware of the fact that pizza was a rare treat. The only time they could get their hands on it was if Tezuka was in a good mood (weekends only) or if there was yet another unfortunate incident involving Inui's experiments. This meant that any of the Italian takeout was pounced on immediately.

The teen entered just in time, as Momo was reaching for the last two slices. Giving the junior a sound smack upside the head, Ryoma snatched them out of his hands. "Give me that. You've probably had plenty already."

"Oi! That hurt, brat! And it's first come, first serve!" Momo complained loudly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Che."

Dinner passed as quietly as it could in this dorm, probably because everyone was dead tired from the unusually harsh workout that Ryoga had put them through. Aside from really meaning what he'd said about getting them to Nationals, it seemed that he was trying to compensate for the time they would lose tomorrow.

Half an hour later, Ryoma flopped down into bed with Fuji's soft, regular breathing already filling the room and Momo and Kikumaru's war cries (from where they were playing video games in the foyer) drifting through the door. As his eyes slid closed, he slipped into an oddly contemplative state. Thinking over the past few weeks, his sleepy mind managed one coherent thought.

_Coming back was a good idea…_

* * *

><p><strong>Well, I hope you all had a good Halloween, I know I did. See, I know you can't tell through all of your awe at my prowess, (arrogance and sarcasm- doin' it up Atobe-style) but I'm still in the trick-or-treat-er range. Anyway, yay candy, yay Halloween, and I just realized that this entire AN only applies to Americans. Yay nationalism and naïveté, then.**


	14. The Prince of Field Day

** *Whistle* this sucker's over 5000 words! Longest yet, and therefore...**

**IT'S A SUPER-D-DUPER-EXTRA-LONG-PRINCE-OF-FIELD-DAY SPECIAL EXTRAVAGANZA! Annnnddddddd… GO!**

* * *

><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Thirteen: The Prince of Field Day

* * *

><p>Ryoma woke up to the sun shining obnoxiously in his eyes and the sound of Fuji returning from his morning and evening routine of sitting on the balcony. Cracking his eyes open the minimal amount, he saw the brunet frowning uncharacteristically and glaring at the phone in his hand.<p>

"Who died?" he mumbled, not one for tact.

"Ah, it's nothing you need to worry about. Just a bit of troubling news from my sister. You should get dressed; we need to be at the school early, after all." Oh, it was Field Day, right.

"Mm." Still half asleep, Ryoma dragged himself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. He did _not _want a repeat of yesterday's wake up call. Once the door had been shut firmly between him and his new roommate, the sleepy teen called out, "Ne, Fuji-senpai. We're supposed to wear gym clothes today, right?"

"More or less. There's going to be a school-wide water fight later, though, so they want us wearing swimsuits and whatever colored clothes your class was assigned. I believe class 1-A is in black."

'_Easy enough._'

Digging out one of his few swimsuits, black with red paint splatters, Ryoma threw it on and began searching for a t-shirt.

Two minutes later, he stepped out into the main room, black Ponta shirt (and matching hat; ah, the benefits of sponsors) on and his hair pulled up. "Fuji-senpai, you ready?"

The brunet looked up from where he sat, reading a book on his bed. "Mm-hm. Let's go downstairs, otherwise Momo will have taken all the food by the time we get down there." Smiling, Fuji led the way out.

Upon arriving in the kitchen, the duo was greeted by the sight of their teammates already eating (and fighting over) breakfast.

All of that stopped when a platter of eggs almost ran straight into Fuji. As the brunet looked down at the food resting dangerously close to his jersey, all of the house's occupants froze, looking sick with fear.

"F-Fujiko…?" Kikumaru (the one responsible for the situation) said hesitantly.

Everyone watched anxiously, tensing as the brunet took a breath and… laughed. The soft chuckles subsided quickly before Fuji addressed his friend, saying, "Why thank you, Eiji. I was just trying to figure out what to have."

"R-right… No problem, nya…" said the redhead with a shaky smile and a twitching eyebrow.

Ryoma sighed resignedly. Really, the way everyone would sometimes act around Fuji was ridiculous. True, the brunet was a screwed up freak of nature, but that didn't mean he was to be feared… right? Shrugging the matter off, the dark haired boy pulled a chair up for himself and plopped down. "Oi, someone pass the pancakes," he said, already reaching for a mountain of food.

~X~

"Alright, everyone! Please circle up over here!" yelled Ayaka-sensei cheerfully, waving one arm straight in the air. The woman's other hand held a clipboard with her attendance list and schedule, and she was dressed in a black t-shirt and red sweatpants. "You get five minutes to stretch, then we'll be starting the first activity of the day: capture the flag!"

At their teacher's announcement, an enthusiastic cheer went up. Capture the flag was the second most popular game played in gym (dodge ball was the first; nothing could beat getting to throw things at your classmates with a teacher's permission, after all).

Ryoma sat down next to Kevin and began stretching, trying to zone out his loud classmates. Today, though, he knew that he wouldn't need to stretch half as much as he usually did. The chances of pulling a muscle were about the same as the chances of Horio being able to back up his claims.

After the five minutes had passed, Ayaka-sensei spoke up again. "Okay! Sawada-kouchou says that he'll be giving the signal to start the games soon. We'll need teams picked and set up before then! Who wants to be captain?"

_Of course, _thought Ryoma,_she can't pick teams because she doesn't know who's an athlete and who isn't._ _That means the captains will probably be…_

"Oh, oh, oh! Me!

"Me, me, me!"

"Alright, how about Horio-kun and Osakada-san?"

"Yes!"

Both of the loudmouths jumped up in their personal victory poses. Tomoka then lowered her arm at Horio, pointing imperiously. "You're going _down! _Now, I'm a lady-"

"Uh-_huh…_"

"Shut up! So as I was saying, I'm a lady, so I get to pick first!" For the second time in so many days, class 1-A found themselves sweat dropping at their classmates' antics.

"Ryoma-sama! You're on my team!" exclaimed their female captain happily.

"Eh! No fair, why do you get Echizen?" blurted Horio, thoroughly startled. In response, Tomoka simply stuck out her tongue. "Heh…" sighed the teen. "Fine, then. I get Kevin!"

As the blond stood with an impish smile, a chill ran through the watching crowd. The tension between Ryoma and Kevin could already be felt, and the students knew that anyone who the superstar respected enough to argue with had to be a phenomenal athlete.

Let it never be said that class 1-A was uninteresting.

The rest of the students were picked without nearly as much trouble, and soon the two groups stood, chatting and joking.

"Is everyone ready?" asked Ayaka-sensei.

"Hai!"

"Alright, Horio-kun, your team will be on the far side, and wearing blue belts. Tomoka-san, your team will be in yellow. Everyone knows the rules?"

"Hai, sensei," the class chorused, already going for their assigned belts.

"Huh. Who'd have guessed? These are the exact same as the ones we used in the states," Kevin commented to his friend. The belts were durable, with several strips of fabric dangling from the main section every few inches, and a clip to fasten them. This made them easy to grab and yank off for the other team.

"Guess so," Ryoma replied noncommittally. Immediately switching from apathetic to teasing and competitive, he continued, "It won't really matter, though. It's not like anyone will be able to catch me."

"What was that? It sounded like a challenge to me."

"You're on, peroxide head."

"It's my-"

The teen's well-worn exclamation was cut off by Ayaka-sensei calling the class to attention. "Quiet down, everyone! Sawada-kouchou is going to start the events soon!"

Sure enough, the slight man could be seen two fields away mounting the podium next to the administrator's table. "Welcome, students, to Seishun Kokou's seventeenth annual Field Day! Throughout the morning, you'll be rotating through several activities with your grade, and after an hour for a picnic lunch, the entire school will be participating in a water war and footraces. Your teachers have each class's schedule, if there are any questions. Now, without further ado, let the games begin!" Pressing the button next to him, Sawada did two things at once.

One: send a loud beep across the entire vast sports complex.

Two: let all hell break loose.

Immediately, Kevin and Ryoma shot off onto the other's side of the field, going for their opponent's flag. It was ultimately a race; who could get to the flag and back first? The other players weren't a problem, as most could barely even react before the teens were gone. When, not half a minute later, both crossed the boundary at the same time, several of their teammates' jaws hit the ground. Something about the school's tennis players gave them the uncanny ability to always run the same distance in the same time.

"Oi, _Ryo_-ma! That was my point! I crossed the line first," shouted Kevin, glaring at the bored looking boy a few feet away from him.

"It was mine."

"It was mine!"

"Mine."

"Mine!"

"M-i-ne." (1)

"I'm telling you that it was mine!"

Déjà vu? Yes.

The argument was cut short by Ayaka-sensei's intervention. "Excuse me, you two. We need to put the flags back, if you'd hand them over. No points everyone, sorry!"

Amidst the groans and complaints, the two sources of trouble looked at each other. "We switch for defense and offense?" proposed Kevin.

"I get offense first," said Ryoma, by way of agreement.

"Sure." With that, the blond backed up, determined to catch his friend and therefore prove his superiority.

Ayaka-sensei blew her whistle, swinging one arm down dramatically as she did so. This time, Kevin stayed put, carefully watching as Ryoma drew closer. Lucky for him, he'd grown over the past two years, and while he wasn't a giant, he was taller and more muscular than his petite rival.

Ryoma suddenly cut to the side, probably trying to say, "I ran right past you and you _still_ didn't catch me," but before the boy got far, Kevin shot out his arm. In a combination of street fighting and football, the American brought his friend crashing to the ground, ripping off his belt in the process.

As the slight teen hit the ground with a satisfying thump, he sent a baleful, I'll-get-you-for-that glare at Kevin from under the brim of his cap.

"That's what you get for being a showoff. Now, off you go," chided the taller freshman, dropping the belt in his hand back on top of its owner.

"Che. That freaking _hurt_ peroxide head," Ryoma replied testily, standing back up.

"Good. Maybe it deflated your head a little."

"Humph." Turning on his heel, the boy stomped back to his side so he could put his belt back on and rejoin the attack. Then, he would score a point, laugh at peroxide head, and stop the blond when it was his turn on the offensive. Simple.

As soon as the strip of fabric was refastened around his waist, Ryoma took off, making sure to steer clear of Kevin. Dodging narrowly around the few other athletes in class, Ryoma reached the flag once more and gripped it firmly. Knowing full well that his irritatingly fit friend would soon be on his heels, he began running off to his own side again.

True to his predictions, Kevin soon caught up to him, one arm reaching for the belt that would nullify any points were it to be ripped off. _Sorry, but not today_.

Just as Kevin's hand was about to grasp one of the pieces hanging from Ryoma's belt, the dark haired boy put on an extra burst of speed and crossed the boundary line.

Turning, both to expend his momentum and gloat in his friend's face, Ryoma tossed the flag back to Kevin. Over the cheers and squeals that had erupted at his point, the teen said, "Mada mada dane."

"You son of a- you're going down."

For the next twenty minutes, a full-blown war ensued between the two tennis players. They rarely accepted, or needed, any help from their teammates, and as such dominated most of the plays. Kevin was able to win most of the rounds, as he was better at dealing with head on, straightforward attacks. To Ryoma's delight, however, Ayaka-sensei announced that the second half hour would be played with each team placing or hiding their flags every round. This meant that having good eyesight, deducing, and preferably a small stature would help a great deal.

While Kevin was comparable to his friend in two of the aspects, Ryoma had him outweighed by far in the latter. And so, the war began anew.

This time around, Ryoma was able to pull ahead, to Kevin's extreme chagrin. The slight teen was able to quickly spot and reach the flag on every try, while Kevin was caught on occasion. In keeping with their infamous rivalry, the end of the hour found the two friends arguing heatedly as they walked to the next station.

"I definitely won more than you; I lost track of the number of times you got tackled!" yelled Kevin.

"Except you tried to barge through like a dumb bull half the time. I definitely won," replied Ryoma as he carelessly sipped a Ponta (that he'd produced from absolutely nowhere).

"I did not! My footwork's better than yours, at least!"

"Yeah, sure. Go through baka aniki's training regime and then _maybe _we'll talk."

For the second (but surely not the last) time that day, Ayaka-sensei was forced to intervene. "You both did fine, I assure you," she interrupted dryly. "I would appreciate it, though, if you let the others participate. Surely even you two can't turn an obstacle course into a contest?" the woman joked.

The two troublemakers exchanged looks.

"We'll see."

Sighing in exasperation, the woman walked away to the front of their class. "Settle down, everyone! This event, as you can all see, is an obstacle course. For the first forty-five minutes, we'll be running it individually, then, we'll split into two relay teams." As she spoke, several students glanced at the two American boys standing lazily off to the side. All of them realized that the two had to be kept on separate teams at all costs. It meant a whole lot more arguments to split up, but it also gave other teams a fighting chance.

Ayaka-sensei spoke up again, calling the class back to attention. "For the course," she said, "you'll start at the cone, vault or climb over the mat wall, and walk across the balance beam." As she detailed their paths, Ayaka-sensei walked down one of the courses and used various gestures to get her meaning across. "Then, you need to get to the next platform only by stepping on these little mats laid out. Once you get there, you'll swing over this gap on the rope and land in front of all the vaults. You can either go over or under them, but no going around."

While his teacher continued to speak, indicating a wire dome with thin strings crisscrossing it (which she called, "the spider web") a rock wall, and the finish line, which involved climbing down from the rock wall on a large rope ladder and falling the last few feet onto a mat, Ryoma couldn't help but wonder, _when in the hell did they set all this up?_

"Echizen-kun, can you run a practice run for us?"

"What?"

Kevin watched as his friend jumped clean over the five-foot wall of mats and hit the ground running. The boy continued to cut, run, and leap through the course with enough speed and grace to be considered inhuman. Well, at least he had something to beat.

He twitched in irritation as another girl sighed breathily. Ryoma was either a master at the art of I'm-not-listening or he was truly an idiot, because the boy always failed to notice his fangirls. This particular airhead had long, ebony hair and so much makeup that Kevin had no clue what her actual facial structure was like. The cosmetics, combined with her rolled up shorts and deliberately low cut t-shirt helped the blond place her in the "slut" category right away. Tsukiko, if memory served.

The girl suddenly turned to Kevin, batting her lashes. "Ne, Kevin-kun, I don't think we've been introduced properly. I'm Ayaka Tsukiko, and Ayaka-sensei is my older sister. I hope we can be great friends, like Ryo-kun and I are. Speaking of which, how did you two become friends?"

_That's got to be one of the quickest times that someone's tried using me to get close to Ryoma, _thought the incredulous American. It was obvious what her goal was, too. Her use of "Ryo-kun" was the first indicator.

"Um…" Seeing Ryoma jogging back, Kevin tossed a glance over the girl's shoulder. _Help me!_

Acknowledging his plight, the teen's gold eyes widened and his pace picked up ever so slightly. Coming to a stop and completely disregarding the fact that his teacher was talking, Ryoma grabbed his friend's arm and pulled the blond off to the side, saying, "Oi, peroxide head, bet'cha can't beat that."

Thankful for a reason to get away from the menace known as Tsukiko, Kevin gladly took the bait.

"Sure I can. A kid could've beaten you with the pace you were going."

Ryoma's eyes sparkled with amusement as he retorted, and the two continued to banter playfully until it was Kevin's turn to run the course. On Ayaka-sensei's whistle, the blond raced off, leaping and striding as effortlessly as his friend before him had.

For most of the time allotted to running the course alone, Ryoma and Kevin competed to see who could get the fastest time, remaining fresh and raring to go as their classmates gradually gave in to exhaustion. By the time the relay came around, the two had finally come to an agreement of sorts (neither would back down, but both realized that) and were sitting under a tree, drinking Ponta.

"Oi, Ryoma," said Kevin as he lowered his can from his lips.

"What?"

"I just heard Ayaka-sensei saying what the next event is for our class; tug of war."

Ryoma's eyes narrowed slightly as his friend's calm demeanor switched to a mischievous aura. "Speak clearly, peroxide head. I've got no clue what you're trying to say." This was a total and complete lie, of course.

Kevin laughed and leaned back again, taking another sip. The tiny celebrity next to him followed suit, and after a long quaff, tossed the empty can into a nearby trash bin. "We should probably be going now, right? Looks like Ayaka-sensei is rounding everyone up."

Glancing over, the blond nodded and stood. "Yeah, let's go."

Momo watched amusedly as his kouhai were arranged into two teams, each lining up on either side of a kiddy pool filled with water. After getting banned from his class's activities for the last ten minutes before lunch, (due to "destructive actions," apparently) he'd decided to come see his two favorite freshmen duke it out.

As it so happened, he only got to see one fight between his two little roomies, but that didn't mean nothing else interesting happened. In fact, Echizen was getting into a hilarious conflict right now.

"Echizen-san, I know you don't like it, but in tug of war, you always put the smallest, lightest person up front, with someone who's big and strong in the back," explained an exasperated brown haired boy about six inches taller than Ryoma.

"That still doesn't explain why I have to be the first in line," the boy deadpanned, trying to control his glare-o'-death.

"Oi, Ryoma. Give the guy a break. You're in the front because the only person shorter and lighter than you is from the artisan dorms and opted not to participate," Kevin yelled from where he stood near the back of the opposite line.

"Che. Easy for you to say." Despite his scoffing, the teen let the matter drop. No matter how much he tried to deny it, (maybe he wouldn't do so quite as much if everyone stopped shoving his height in his face) he was one of the shortest people in school, as well as one of the lightest.

Momo laughed audibly, earning himself a withering glare from Ryoma. _Ah, youth…_

As his chuckles subsided, the junior watched as Echizen's willowy brunette of a teacher swung her arm down quickly, signaling the tug of war's start.

Immediately, he saw the students' muscles tense as they all pulled backwards. Occasionally, one would falter or lose their footing for a moment, causing them to stumble backward. It was on one such occurrence (caused by the girl standing a few feet behind Ryoma) that Kevin's team began noticeably pulling their opponents forward. The athletes on the losing side were now trying their damndest to regain ground, but to no avail.

Momo leaned forward as Ryoma was dragged forward another few inches. Just a little more and…

_Splash._

As Kevin's team gave one final pull, cheering, a splash rose up from something hitting the water. Several students got a good drink, but one student in particular got a good bath.

Coughing and shaking himself, Ryoma pulled himself out of the water, already trying to wring out his hair. At the sight of his shirt clinging to him, the boy ripped off the garment and tossed it at Momo's head, exacting his revenge.

Peeling the mass of wet black fabric off of his face proved profitable for Momo, as it would provide him with invaluable blackmail material. As soon as his eyes were free of water, his sharp eyes noticed how every female in the vicinity's eyes snapped to the boy's pale, toned abs. It would seem that their little rookie was also a Casanova- unwelcome and unintentional as it may have been.

"You look very refreshed, Echizen!" Momo called to the waterlogged teen.

His only response was an irritated twitch of the eyebrow.

After Ayaka-sensei handed him a towel, the boy walked over to his upperclassman, Kevin by his side. "What are you even doing here, Momo-senpai?"

"Watching you get your ass kicked. I mean, man! You went down like a ton of bricks!" While the teasing was incredibly fun for Momo, it would also prove fatal.

"Oi, Kevin," said Ryoma, for once reverting to the way he'd originally called his friend. "What did you say the next event was?"

"A school-wide mock war with water guns and stuff," replied the blond, seeing exactly where Ryoma was going.

"Sounds good. C'mon, let's go."

Momo had a creeping feeling that this wouldn't be a good event for him.

There were three teams, each with one senior captain and one junior vice-captain. This was set up to keep any one grade forming most of a team. Other than this restriction, players could join whichever of the three teams that they wanted. Once someone is sprayed by a water gun or hit by a water balloon, they're "dead" until one of their team's two doctors comes and "revives" them by tapping them.

So were the rules explained to the red team, captained by Tezuka Kunimitsu and the track team's star, a second year by the name of Nori.

"Sensei," said Tezuka, startling the woman.

"Uh… Y-yes, Tezuka-kun?"

"How is the game won?" the towering student asked in his usual monotone.

"Oh, right. Well, the enemy team has to get all the way onto your side, and they'll need to take both your and Nori-kun's armbands," she replied, indicating the red cloths tied around all of the students' arms that indicated their allegiance.

Responding with a nod and a respectful, "Thank you," Tezuka backed up.

The instructor nodded and began walking away. "I'll leave you all to your planning. Make sure you choose two doctors!"

"So," piped a shy looking first year girl, feeling slightly embarrassed at all of the older boys suddenly looking at her. "We should have some fake doctors and a defense, at least, right?"

In an impressive show of sounding like his brother, Ryoma spoke up. "Defense and all that stuff won't matter as long as we take the other team down first, right?"

"That's not the only part of it, Ryoma," drawled Kevin in a patronizing tone. "Everyone else is going to have another knucklehead like you who'll come up with the exact same thing as you, and then where'll we be?"

"You can't win if you don't attack, peroxide head."

"You _will_ lose if you don't defend, idiot."

"Echizen, Smith, stop or else it five laps around the grounds," ordered Tezuka. His day away from his younger "children" was apparently over. Looking away as the two said, "Hai…" reluctantly, he began to assess his teammates. Aside from the shy girl and the arguing freshmen, he had a few members of the track team, Oishi, Inui, Kaidoh, several unseated tennis club members, and a random assortment of students who'd come to be on the team with their friends. The latter group was about half athletes, so all in all, it was as good a group as he could've hoped for.

He set up a team with one fourth of the people staying on their own ground, one fourth attacking one team, another fourth attacking the other team, and the other fourth could do whatever they wanted (or needed) to.

The doctors, he decided, would be best as smaller, innocent looking people who were also as fast as they could be. This would make people hesitant to fire on them, but if someone did, they'd probably be able to dodge. So, he picked two freshman girls from the track team.

Ryoma and Kevin, part of the roaming group, began walking to the edge of the red team's territory. Ryoma tightened his armband with his teeth, a large water gun in one hand. "Kikumaru-senpai and Momo-senpai are in charge of the blue team. I'll get them."

Weighing his own gun in one hand, Kevin agreed. "Sounds good. I'll take the yellow team."

"Bet I'll have to come help you out," countered Ryoma, his keen eyes watching Sawada-kouchou, who was about to begin the war.

"Right," said Kevin as the whistle sounded, taking off.

Ryoma followed suit, dodging through people in a running crouch much as he had during capture the flag. The only difference was that now, he made sure to give them a quick blast of water as he passed. Soon enough, there was a trail of people, sitting and wondering what had just hit them as they waited for their doctors.

"Momo! Ochibi's coming!" yelled Kikumaru, not to be fooled.

"Aa!" the second year called in reply. He had totally been expecting Echizen to come attacking them as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately for him, he _hadn't_ expected to get blasted in the face with water, flinch, and have his armband gone when his eyes opened.

"Argh! Freaking brat! You little-"

Drowning out Momo's impressive display of expletives, an announcement rang out over the playing field. "The blue vice-captain is down!"

As Ryoma smirked triumphantly, Kikumaru shouted over to him, "Unyah! Ochibi! You're so mean!"

This reminded the dark haired teen of the matter at hand, and he immediately began sprinting to where his redheaded senpai stood.

Kikumaru proved to be much more of a problem, as his excellent eyesight allowed him to dodge any jets of water, as well as giving him excellent aim himself.

After being at an impasse for almost a minute, Ryoma came up with the perfect plan. "Ne, Kikumaru-senpai," he said, narrowly dodging another stream of water. "I found this toothpaste the other day, it was pretty cool tasting, so I just used what was left of it."

"_What!_"

Before he could recover from his shock, Ryoma darted forward and grabbed the blue armband from Kikumaru. "Just kidding."

"The blue team is out!"

"Gah! You're so annoying sometimes, nya!" In a strange combination of irritation and unconditional love, the catlike teen jumped out and gave his little brother a full on glomp.

"Kikumaru-senpai?"

"Nya?"

"Could… you… please… _get off?"_

"Unyah! When did you get blue skin?"

~X~

True to his word, Kevin had quickly taken the yellow team's armbands. This quick win on the red team's part resulted in several rematches, only one of which ended in red losing (a major factor was that Fuji was the only one brave enough to go near Tezuka).

By the time the hour was up and the sun only two hands' breadth above the horizon, barely any of the students were dry. Ryoma was one such student, barely having been touched the entire game. Slipping back into his shirt, he began walking towards the track, accompanied by his teammates.

"Ryo-chan, which events did you sign up for?" asked Fuji as he walked up, also completely dry.

"The forty and one hundred meter dashes and the three-legged race, with peroxide head. Then I'm being forced into the team relay," the short athlete replied, struggling to remember. Those who wanted to participate in the track and field events had to sign up for at least three races, and while Ryoma hadn't been particularly interested in them, Kevin was. That morning, the blond had come up to his friend, asking if they could do the three-legged race together. After much wheedling on Kevin's part, Ryoma had agreed to it. To fill his other two slots, he'd chosen two of the early races so that he wouldn't have to get up more than once.

Completely seeing through this, Fuji replied, "Well, the team relay is the kickoff race, your race with Kevin-kun is right after that, and the dashes are after that. Seems like you won't have anything to do for the last hour or so."

"I could use a nap anyways."

Fuji laughed quietly and descended into comfortable silence until the team reached the track. As most of the students filtered into the stands, the varsity players for the football, track, tennis, cross country, and baseball teams began stretching and getting in their places for the relay.

"Ah, Echizen. You're our lightest and fastest, even without your pinnacles, so you'll be going last. You'll be running 100 meters after Kikumaru hands the baton to you. Got it?" explained Inui, snapping his notebook shut.

"Uisu."

Five minutes later, Ryoma stood bouncing on the spot as Oishi handed the baton to Fuji. The order for the relay was Tezuka, Oishi, Fuji, Inui, Kaidoh, Momo, Kikumaru, and finally, Ryoma. So far, only the track team was ahead of the tennis team, as their captain and vice-captain had been roughly the same speed as the tennis club's leaders.

Each person would run for around fifteen seconds before a new player would take the baton and begin their portion of the race to raucous cheers. Now Inui was running… now Kaidoh… now Momo.

Kikumaru swiped the baton out of Momo's hand and took off, copies of himself appearing as he pulled ahead easily. In almost ten seconds, Ryoma had the baton in his hand. The small athlete began his run, taking long, quick strides and getting his team even further ahead. All too quickly, he raced across the finish line amidst cheers and whistles.

As he slowed to a jog, expending his momentum, Kevin trotted up to him. "Good job, but you might want to make sure that people can see that you were actually running next time. Be like Kikumaru-senpai and have the decency to leave some copies behind, at least," joked the American. "Now come on, we've got to go get our legs tied together for the three legged race."

"Sounds fun," Ryoma replied dryly, not even winded from his sprint.

"I know, right? Now come on." Laughing at how his friend suddenly seemed to become dead weight, Kevin dragged the irate boy off.

"You'd just better not drag me down, peroxide head."

* * *

><p><strong>Thrill Forever- Y U NO LEAVE SIGNED REVIEW? I'm kidding, it's fine. You left one and that's all that matters. There will be Thrill soon, (two chapters) but please bear with me and remember that Ryoma is the least romantic person EVAH. It's bound to take a while. -3- Even if I REALLY want to write those scenes…<strong>

**The moral of the chapter is that Ryoma is a god (it's pretty clear that he's going to win all of his races, right?).**

**Hey! It's 11:11 (FFN time) on 11/11/11 (cuz I'm obsessive like dat)! **

**Oh, last random disjointed announcement, I now have one hundred favorites, (thanks dontchafeel likedancing) which means I have 100+ subscribers, reviews, and favorites. Thanks SO much, everyone!**

**(1) Approximation of "O-re no" (from that episode in America).**


	15. Rain

**Bah. I don't have anything to say, but the title goes weird if I don't put something in here. Thanks for all the reviews, as always. Saa, ikou. **

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Fourteen: Rain

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><p>"You sure you don't want me to go with you, Ryo-chan?" Fuji asked casually. Ayaka-sensei had asked Ryoma to get more water bottles for his class, to which he had complied, but Fuji had constantly been asking if he wanted help.<p>

"I'll be fine, Fuji-senpai," the shorter bishounen repeated in an exasperated tone. Fuji was acting like Oishi. "It's just some water bottles."

The prodigy scowled inwardly. '_I'm loathe to let him off on his own, what with nee-san's call earlier, but if I press the issue any farther, it will look strange. I'll just go find him if he isn't back in ten minutes… Well, it's silly of me to worry in the first place. He'll be just fine._'

"Ii yo. Be back soon, ne?" the brunet said, tilting his head in false cheer.

"Gotcha." With that, Ryoma spun on his heel and walked off towards the school building.

Fuji gave the tiniest of sighs. '_Ten minutes, huh?_'

~X~

As he walked, Ryoma thought about his senpai's odd behavior. Fuji was acting weirder than usual today. Not that it was his business what the team's genius did.

The tennis player broke into a light jog; field day would be _over_ before he got back to the track at this rate.

'_Where did Ayaka-sensei say the extra cooler was?_' Remembering it was behind the tennis clubhouse (that was why she'd sent him, he practically _couldn't_ get lost) Ryoma turned in that direction.

Everything was quiet, peaceful, even. There was no background noise, no chatter, no cheers. All people and sounds had been left behind at the sports complexes. He reached the clubhouse and began walking behind it when-

"Oi, brat!"

A large hand roughly seized Ryoma's upper arm. The boy's eyes widened. "Huh?

The small teen was thrown forcefully into the alley between the school and clubhouse and slammed against a wall, getting pinned there by the neck.

Clutching at the forearm cutting off his airflow and struggling in an attempt to get free, golden eyes finally fell on the man _attached_ to the arm. Ryoma choked out one word. "Y-you?"

Another man's fist collided with his stomach at the same time that a hand grabbed his chin. "Leave his face alone."

~X~

Fuji frowned. It had been five minutes, so Ryoma should be on his way back by now. He still couldn't shake the foreboding feeling his sister's prediction had brought…

_Flashback_

_The musical beeps of his cell phone broke the balcony's silence. Picking up the little phone from where it lay on the table next to him, Fuji shut his book softly._

"_Hello?"_

"Syuusuke, it's me._" A gentle female voice responded_

"_Ah, nee-san. How've you been?"_

"Fine, but that's not why I'm calling._"_

"_What is it?"_

"What's going on at school today?_"_

"_Field day, why?"_

"Hmm… I did a tarot reading on you just now, and I think you should keep an eye on those close to you today. Is there anyone you care for at school? Like, on the same level as _Yuuta_, care for_."_

_Fuji's smile had long since disappeared and his eyes had snapped open. "There is one, yes."_

"Really? Who is- never mind. Watch out for them today, just in case._"_

"_Saa… I will. Thank you, nee-san." Fuji hung up, a look of deep concentration on his face. He glanced through the open glass door to Ryoma's bed, where the teen still slept soundly. "Nothing will happen. I won't let it."_

_Flashback End_

Ryoma had now been gone seven minutes, however, knowing him, he would've jogged over to the school and not let the cooler slow him down on the way back. In all honesty, the freshman should've been back by now. '_I'm going to find Ryoga._'

~X~

_Pain._

_He thought he'd been in pain a few times in his life; obviously he'd been wrong._

_Pain._

_Shouldn't he be screaming for help? Probably._

_Pain._

_He writhed in his captor's grip, partially in a futile attempt to break free and partially in agony._

_Pain._

_Blows landed all over him; kicks, punches, simple hitting. He was on the ground, right? Yes, that would explain the hard, rough surface scraping his back…_

_Pain._

~X~

"Ryoga-kun, have you seen Ryoma?"

Fuji had left the bench where he'd been sitting in search of Echizen the elder. After walking and searching thoroughly with his keen eyes for a minute or so, he found the man taking a break from his referee duties in the bleachers.

The larger version of Fuji's roommate turned in surprise. "No, not since the relay. Why?" he inquired with a little wry smile.

"I think he might be in trouble. Can you help me look for him?" While ordinarily, Ryoga would've brushed the statement off, he'd quickly learned how little Fuji projected any emotion besides amusement. The waves of honest concern rolling off the brunet immediately put him on edge.

"Sure. Where do you think he went?"

"I'm not sure. Ayaka-sensei might know, though. She sent him to get more water for his classmates." Fuji's brow knitted slightly as he spoke.

It had been twelve minutes.

~X~

_Red._

_He couldn't see straight anymore, a bloody crimson veil had drifted over his eyes long ago._

_Red._

"_Aoi-… hand him o-… shirt off." They were saying something, but who were 'they?'_

_Red._

_The world tilted, making him feel nauseous. Something was pinning him by the neck again… There was a strange sensation there, he could breathe, could gasp, and of course it hurt like hell, but something was… off._

_Red._

_Now his torso was cold, clashing in a grimly ironic way with the stinging, searing heat left behind the blows. He could feel skin when he got punched there._

Red.

~X~

"Ryoga-kun, can you check around the tennis courts? I'll look in his classroom." The two tennis players were running full tilt towards the school, their worry growing with each passing second.

"Aa." They approached the school and broke off, Ryoga headed left and Fuji right.

The prodigy raced to class 1-A on the second floor, throwing the door open. "Ryoma? Damn." The room was completely empty. On the other hand, it had a view of the tennis complex. '_Maybe I'll see him from there…_'

Fuji saw him, all right, but the scene that met his eyes stopped his heart.

There was Ryoma, _his_ Ryoma, pinned to the wall behind the tennis clubhouse by his neck. Four men were beating him mercilessly, landing blow after blow on his exposed chest. Even in the few seconds that he watched, one of his attackers drew away his arm from Ryoma's neck, letting the teen crumple to the ground.

_Wait._ He recognized those people. Kazuya, Nishi, Gorou, and Aoiyama. They must've held a grudge against Ryoma, then. '_But who would go this far?_'

Horrified, he watched as Nishi said a few words to the group, kicking Ryoma's prone form. Gorou, seemingly in response, picked the dark haired teen up and threw him over one shoulder.

"Damnit! What am I doing?" Fuji mumbled, cursing himself. As he ran to the stairwell, he couldn't stop thinking about what had snapped him out of his trance.

After being slung over Gorou's shoulder, Ryoma had coughed weakly. Blood had trickled out the corner of his mouth.

~X~

_What's going on?_ The hold on his neck was gone and he was on the ground again…

"Think… heard… -one looking… brat. Gorou… him."

The world swung wildly, then jolted to a stop. Maybe someone had picked him up? Either way, they hadn't done it gently. He coughed a bit, though that didn't help. The action had put some liquid in his mouth. It was hot and tasted metallic.

Whoever was carrying him began to walk, judging from the swaying. They were going to _continue_? Why were they doing this to him? He'd recognized Nishi at first, at the very least _that_ made sense…

It hurt too much to think lucidly. A faraway voice that he _thought_ was familiar swam at the edge of his fading consciousness.

"Chibisuke!"

~X~

Ryoga rounded another corner, calling his little brother's name. He now stood behind the clubhouse, looking around carefully. "Fuck."

On the ground lay a black t-shirt with several rips in it. The battered Ponta insignia poked out from beneath one fold of cloth. "Chibisuke! Ryoma!"

"Ryoga?" Fuji's voice called out from behind him.

"Fuji. Did you find him?" Maybe that shirt was somebody else's, then?

"In a manner of speaking. Follow me." The brunet had a sour look on his face as he started running towards the side of the school.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ryoga asked, keeping pace at Fuji's side.

"I just saw him getting beaten up here by a bunch of bastards that used to be on the team. They went that way," the tense prodigy replied bitterly, pointing ahead of them.

"What!"

"Ah, Ryoga-san, they need you back at the- Fuji? What are you doing here?" A deep voice called out to them from their left.

"Kid Captain! Good. Come on, we need your help. You said your grandpa taught you karate?"

"Aa. Why?" Tezuka asked.

"No time, come on. Ryo-chan's in trouble." Fuji was already running again. '_Ryoma!_'

~X~

_Agony. _

_During the trip to… wherever he was at the moment, Ryoma had regained a little of his strength. Going with his basic survival instincts, he'd struggled against his captors. That hadn't gone well._

_Agony._

_Muffled, garbled curses. Another heavy boot to his side. Then the worst part._

_Agony._

_A white-hot slash across his chest, going roughly from right shoulder to left hip. That hot, metallic liquid from earlier spurting down his chest._

_Agony._

_Every inch of him was in excruciating pain. Worse than when his broken racquet cut his eye, worse than when Akutsu threw those rocks at him, worse than each and every time a tennis ball had hit him, combined. So many times worse._

_Agony._

_His wrists were pinned above his head, and someone was talking. Were they saying something to him?_

_Agony._

_Why couldn't he scream? Why couldn't he move? Everything hurt so much. 'Someone help! Fuji-senpai, baka aniki, peroxide head, someone!'_

_Agony._

_The world was going dark, black seeping into the corners of his unfocused gaze._

_Nothing._

~X~

There was the sound of movement up ahead, as well as a few voices. '_He's here, he has to be!_' thought Fuji, feeling frantic for the first time in his life.

"He's out. The brat lasted longer than I thought he would. Guess that's the green light to have some fun with him, then."

"Nishi!" Fuji, Ryoga, and Tezuka rounded the corner. The genius had to seriously fight the scarlet haze of rage threatening to take him over. '_Getting Ryo-chan is more important. Getting Ryo-chan is more important. Getting Ryo-chan is more important.'_ Keeping the litany running through his head, Fuji examined the situation closer.

Nishi had Ryoma in a much more… suggestive position than before. The boy was unconscious, head drooping and eyes closed. His wrists were pinned above him, and Nishi, the one holding him there, was far closer than Ryoma would have _ever_ agreed to. The worst part, however, was the bright crimson blood streaming down the teen's pale chest.

Still struggling against the urge to make each and every one of the men before him pay for harming _his_ Ryoma so badly, the back of Fuji's mind vaguely registered Ryoga's voice as he attacked Kazuya. "Bastards!"

On his other side, Tezuka had launched himself expertly at Gorou and Aoiyama.

Looking deceptively calm, Fuji walked over to the stunned Nishi. "I'm going to have to ask you to unhand my Ryoma."

"Yours?" the man sneered. "A bit unfair that you're claiming such a tasty little thing. You really should let other people have some fun with the brat." Nishi's hand trailed down Ryoma's spine, pressing the smaller boy closer.

For Fuji, the man had just gone one step past the unthinkable, the _unforgivable, _things that he'd already done. Needless to say, it was the last straw for him. Doing what he hadn't since he'd dealt with the boys bullying Yuuta, the brunet drew back his fist and punched Nishi in the face with all his might.

Not even watching as the son of a bitch dropped to the ground, Fuji quickly turned and caught Ryoma gingerly. The boy was out cold, looking more fragile than Fuji had ever seen him. His beloved precious person, usually so brusque and cold, yet so passionate and fiery, drooped listlessly, sporting a number of ugly bruises and scarlet-dyed skin.

Kneeling down to gently cradle the teen in his arms, not even noticing the bright red blood staining his sleeves, Fuji turned to Ryoga and Tezuka. It was with morbid pleasure that he noted the three unconscious bodies behind them. "Ryoga, call an ambulance and your parents. Tezuka, can you go get the team?"

Both nodded, Tezuka walking off with hints of anger and concern in his eyes, and Ryoga whipping out his phone, still openly livid.

Slowly, so as not to jostle the injured boy below him, Fuji removed his shirt and pressed it against the still-bleeding-profusely wound. He didn't like the amount of blood that was beginning to stain the dirt around them, not one bit.

Gently caressing Ryoma's face, the only part of him left unharmed, Fuji wiped away the thin line of blood trailing from the corner of Ryoma's mouth. Pushing down the (dare he say it) panic seeping into his gut, he noticed the chill slowly covering his back.

It was raining.

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><p>… <strong>IF YOU KILL ME NOW YOU WON'T FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT! <strong>

**R&R, even if it's only to yell at me, R&R. Now, if you need me, I'll be hiding in my bomb shelter 'til next week. **


	16. I Will Always Protect You

**I know the last chapter was confusing, but Ryoma was busy getting the living shit beaten out of him and Ryoga/Fuji had no clue what was going on. Now, I got some 'splainin to do.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Fifteen: I Will Always Protect You

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><p>"… Will he be alright?"<p>

Oishi's nervous question echoed through the waiting room outside Ward 17. The members of Seishun Kokou's tennis club were scattered around the room, not making a sound.

"We'll find out when Kaa-san and oyaji get back with Murasaki-sensei…" muttered Ryoga from where he sat, hunched over clasped hands. Why hadn't he been allowed into his little brother's room? He'd been there for the entire thrice-damned incident, and he was Ryoma's family, too.

Just then, there was a soft creak and swishing sound as the door to Ryoma's hospital room opened. Rinko and Nanjiroh Echizen stepped outside, looking stricken. Mrs. Echizen had tears streaming freely down her face. A sturdily built man with square glasses and salt-and-pepper hair – Murasaki-sensei – followed them out.

Nine pairs of eyes snapped up to the trio, dreading what Ryoma's mother would be crying for. "Well?" snapped Kevin touchily. He _hated_ being in suspense, especially in such a dire situation. Murasaki-sensei cleared his throat awkwardly. "We've stabilized Echizen-san, and have the details regarding his condition, but you may not like it."

~X~

Fuji Syuusuke was not one to let things throw him. Anything and everything thrown at him was taken into stride, most likely with a serene smile. This was, therefore, completely unknown territory to him. He felt helpless, furious, worried, slightly panicked, and above all, wracked with guilt.

'_If only… if only… if only…_'

Dozens of alternate scenarios ran through his mind. All of those that didn't end with Ryoma in a hospital bed began with _him_ not letting _his _Ryoma go to get the water on his own, not to mention waiting so long for his return. In short, everything was his fault.

He'd been numb through the paramedics ushering him and Ryoga into the ambulance with Ryoma, through the unconscious teen being given an oxygen mask, temporary bandages, and saline drip, through arriving at the hospital. In fact, he'd only snapped out of his self-loathing stupor when the hospital staff had begun to cart Ryoma off on a gurney. Only when he'd been assured that they were just going to treat the various cuts and bruises mottling the boy's porcelain skin did the brunet sink into a chair (the same chair which he was currently occupying).

The prodigy had sat staring at the floor, completely oblivious to his housemates' eventual arrival as he thought over what had happened and why it was _all his fault_.

When Murasaki-sensei had reentered the room from speaking privately with Ryoma's parents, his eyes had zoomed up to the man's face along with everyone else's.

"We've stabilized Echizen-san, and have the details regarding his condition, but you may not like it." Fuji honestly doubted he would've particularly _liked_ anything the good doctor had to say at the moment, and as such barely managed to contain a snort of derision.

"Other than the severe bruising that's virtually covering him, there's a relatively shallow cut across his chest. We stitched it up, and with luck, it'll eventually heal without a scar. He did lose quite a bit of blood, though, so we were forced to give him a transfusion. Also, he sustained a very small amount of internal bleeding, which we managed to find and patch up," continued Murasaki.

"Is that why he coughed up blood earlier?" interjected Fuji, speaking for the first time in at least forty-five minutes.

"Yes. Well, that and-"

"And?"

"_And_, it seems when he was pinned by the neck, his attackers managed to do more than bruise it and cut off his airway." Seishun's tensai definitely didn't like where this was going…

"There's severe internal damage to his larynx," stated the doctor in a slightly apologetic tone.

"Larynx? As in…" Momo spoke up from where he leaned against a wall, sounding afraid to finish the sentence.

"His voice box," clarified Fuji, feeling his stomach plummet. If Ryoma's voice box was badly damaged, then that would mean…

"I'm sorry to say, but Echizen-san most likely won't be able to speak again. If he's lucky – and he may be, a person's youth in and of itself can do wonders in the healing process – he might be able to speak in two or three months. Even then, though, he'll never be able to speak much without the risk losing his voice forever."

Silence fell over the room like an oppressive storm cloud. Rinko's tears suddenly made much more sense. Their baby, their rookie, their Pillar, he'd lost his voice to some sore losers with a grudge. Even if he did get it back, there would be limits on him- _him, _the boy who hated limits so much.

"Fuji, Ryoga, Kid Captain." Echizen Nanjiroh's voice called the team out of their grim thoughts. "You three know who did this?"

"Aa," confirmed Tezuka, arms crossed and face unwaveringly blank. "I spoke to one of them after Ryoma had been brought here, and Nishi's father had apparently paid them to do it."

"Che." Fuji almost laughed at how ridiculous the situation was. His Ryo-chan had been beaten, injured, and nearly violated because some bastard had paid some thugs to do what they'd do free of charge. "Probably didn't take much cash."

"How'd he even find out that Ochibi was the reason he was fired?" As Kikumaru posed the question, he brought his head up from where he'd buried it in Oishi's chest.

Mr. Echizen was looking more frustrated by the second. "I don't know, but we'll find out during the lawsuit."

"Anata!" exclaimed Rinko. "You're planning to sue?"

"Of course I am, we know who did it and I'm not letting the son of a bitch get away with it! Hell, you can represent us, me, whatever, in court!"

The man's wife pursed her lips, furrowing her brow in concentration. While it was against her largely gentle nature to react so strongly, her little boy had been hurt – badly – and it would be all too easy to put away the man responsible. However, she wasn't sure that she was allowed to represent her own husband, especially in a case concerning her own son. While the brunette didn't think there was any rule against it, her boss may not let her take part in a case so close to the heart. '_Worth a shot…_'

Looking up, she nodded at her husband slowly. "I'll agree to press charges, but I'm not sure if I'm allowed to be your lawyer. Why don't we go get some coffee downstairs and talk about it?"

Seeing his wife's logic, Samurai Nanjiroh nodded back, his face dead serious for once. "Aa. Let's go."

The couple left the waiting room, already deep in conversation. Now, only the seven Regulars, Kevin, and Ryoga remained. The latter cleared his throat, grabbing Murasaki-sensei's attention. "Can we go see him now?"

The man nodded sympathetically, stepping out of their way. "Please be quiet, though. We don't want him waking before he's ready to."

Mumbling their assent, the tennis team entered the small room en masse. Several of those who had yet to see the damage hissed at Ryoma's current state.

The fragile looking teen was tucked into the hospital bed, dressed in pale green pajamas with his hair splayed on the pillows behind him. His right sleeve was rolled up so that a single intravenous tube could be attached to his arm, which was covered in a gruesome rainbow of bruised skin. Ryoma's face was unnaturally pale, and his brows were knitted slightly from a nightmare. No few flinches were drawn from the sight of clean white bandages covering almost all of the boy's neck.

Ryoga approached his little brother's bedside, looking confused, worried, and angry all at once. Chibisuke wasn't supposed to be like this; Chibisuke was supposed to be spunky, active, and fun to irritate. The man hated seeing his brother like this, so broken and in pain.

Fuji sat down in one of the chairs next to Ryoma's bed, interlocking his fingers and resting his chin on them. It was all his fault; why couldn't he do anything to help his precious person? He hadn't been able to save Ryoma until it was too late, and now all he could do was think and stare uselessly. Tensai indeed.

Kevin stared at his long-time rival and best friend. He still couldn't believe this had happened. Sure, Ryoma got picked up by the collar a lot, or almost smacked around, but it was always _almost_. Somehow, the teen's calm, cocky demeanor had always made him seem untouchable.

Kikumaru nuzzled his head back into his boyfriend's neck. Poor lovable, huggable, adorable little Ochibi… He'd never done anything to deserve this.

Oishi patted the redhead's back soothingly, attempting to calm the teen down. He'd always worried about his team's safety, and now, for this to happen to someone so close to their collective hearts…

Inui sat silently, gazing steadily at the small high schooler in the bed across from him. His green notebook lay off to the side, totally forgotten. '_Who knew we all relied on you so much, Echizen._'

Momo pressed his eyes closed, face buried in both hands. To see the little brat he recognized as one of his closest friends in such a state just hurt too much.

Tezuka leaned against a wall, arms crossed. Though he wasn't even close to wearing his heart on his sleeve, that didn't mean he was unfeeling. For example, at the moment, he was angry, worried, and slightly gloomy at seeing his Pillar and valued teammate like this.

Kaidoh sat in one corner, seething quietly. The same people that had gotten him and Momoshiri kicked off the team had done this to his junior. They were going to pay, no ifs ands or buts.

~X~

_Nothing made sense; there was just pain. Someone was hurting him, but he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't run, fight, or speak. He couldn't even retreat into the recesses of his mind. Everything was red. It was not a warm, comforting hue, but a violent, bloody veil that draped over the world. Malicious laughter flickered at the edge of his hearing, but so did- "Fujiko… hungry, nya." What? He knew that voice, right? Now, everything was rapidly turning black, all the red, all the pain, all the cruel laughter. All faded away…_

Everything was numb, and he couldn't move an inch. On the other hand, considering the situation he remembered passing out to, this was a vast improvement. A soft, melodic voice drifted in and out of his consciousness, slowly rousing him.

"You… ahead… I… watch him… a while." A few mumbled agreements and thanks could be heard, followed by several pairs of feet shuffling against tile. In a few short moments, all his sharp ears could pick up were annoying, regular beeps that probably came from a machine and one person other than himself breathing quietly.

Fighting the way his eyelids seemed to be glued closed, he slowly pushed them open. Everything was fuzzy, though… Maybe if he blinked a few times?

Deciding it was too much effort, he settled for the blurry pictures he was receiving. It was only then that he noticed the feather-light grip on his left hand. Ugh. Who was touching him? His sleepy mind seemed to connect physical contact with pain…

He needed to find out who was holding on to his hand, then. Trying once more, he fluttered his eyelids, willing his vision to sharpen.

"Ryoma?" A surprised feminine voice that he knew (or he thought so, at the very least) broke the silence.

Wait. He _was_ Ryoma. Echizen Ryoma. The gears in his head began turning quicker. Where was he? There was a lot of white, the disgusting smell of antiseptic, and an unnaturally quiet atmosphere. A hospital. Fun.

"Ryoma, you're awake!" The voice spoke again, sounding immensely relieved. That was Fuji-senpai's voice, but Fuji-senpai called him by a pet name. Well, that wasn't 100% true, as he'd used '_Ryoma_' a few times when serious.

"Fuji-senpai?" No, that wasn't right. Ryoma knew he'd moved his lips, but no sound had come out. What in the…? Frowning slightly, he tried again. '_Fuji-senpai._' Still nothing.

Fuji's face slowly came into focus, open eyes looking relieved, sad, angry, and extremely guilty. Why? "Ryoma, what do you remember?"

What indeed… There had been something about pain, and Nishi… Nishi!

Everything came back in a flash, and almost all of the (now that he thought about it, probably drug-induced) daze clouding his mind disappeared. Ryoma's golden eyes widened slowly.

"As I feared. Well, I'm not going to go over what you already know, then," muttered the brunet at his bedside. "All you need to know is that we found you and took care of the people hurting you. They damaged your throat, though, so…" The look of guilt marring Fuji's delicate features had changed to one of anger and hatred.

His throat? Reaching up to his neck (which hurt like hell) with one weak, trembling arm, his fingers found the unmistakable feel of bandages. That was why he couldn't talk? He was mute, stuck in his own head? Reaching into his rarely used supply of cuss words, the tennis star thought the one phrase that came to mind: '_Well fuck._'

"I'm so sorry. This is utterly my fault, Ryoma. If I hadn't let you get those water bottles on your own, then Nishi and his damn friends might not have-" A tug on his sleeve, so feeble it was almost pitiful, stopped the teen's bitter rant.

Ryoma stared up at him with intrigued golden-brown eyes. Moving his lips with forced precision, the dark haired boy mouthed the words: '_Why are you so mad?_'

Fuji's look of fury almost (_almost_) disappeared. He'd seen the look in Ryoma's eyes when the conclusion that he was mute had been reached, but here was the same boy, not a minute later, trying to cope and find a way around the problem. "Because they hurt you. I'll never forgive them for that."

The small teen's brow creased. He began moving his arm as if to tug Fuji's sleeve again or something of the like, but dropped the limb with a flinch and tiny hiss of pain. '_I can't move,_' he mouthed.

The hatred in Seishun's genius's eyes burned brighter, though it was almost immediately replaced by remorse, sorrow, and extreme pain. "I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me. I promise, no one will ever hurt you again; I won't let anyone touch you."

Ryoma parted his lips as if to question the statement, but stopped at the new addition to Fuji's cerulean eyes. This was a dream. This was a trick of the light. This wasn't real. This _couldn't_ be real, because no matter what, no matter when, Fuji Syuusuke did _not_ tear up.

Yet, there was no other way to describe the moisture that just barely avoided spilling out of the prodigy's eyes, giving the blue pools yet another layer of color. "I promise to you," he whispered, planting one arm on each side of Ryoma's head and staring the boy straight in the eye from where he hovered, not a foot away. "I promise to you, Ryoma, that I will always protect you."

The startled boy barely had time to register the brunet's warm breath, smelling slightly of mint and rosemary, dancing across his skin. Before he could even blink at the older teen's promise and proximity, a pair of warm lips were pressed against his own.

The world froze, and Ryoma's eyes shot wide open. _Is _this_ why I never looked twice at girls?_ _I'd just thought I was just asexual, but maybe I was wrong. Am I gay?_ _Moreover, am I gay for _Fuji-senpai?_ It makes sense, now that I think about it. I don't mind Fuji-senpai being around, sometimes I even like it, and only an idiot would say he isn't attractive. And then there's this kiss…_

As his thoughts snapped back to the matter at hand, (questions on his orientation already answered and forgotten) Ryoma began to register how… _good_ it felt. Closing his eyes and trying to calm the faint pink he knew would be dusting his cheekbones, the younger of the two focused on the kiss. Fuji was being gentle, ever so softly nipping at his bottom lip and silently asking for the teen to open his mouth. As soon as he complied, the brunet's tongue slipped inside Ryoma's mouth, bringing a sensation of warmth with it. Fuji tasted clean, like fresh mint, spring wind, all things sweet and crisp. Even with the tender way his senpai was handling him, the embrace was laced with pure, raw passion.

Soon, he found himself kissing back, savoring the feeling of Fuji's mouth on his own, the warmth spreading through his weak body, the gentle tickle of soft brown locks brushing his face. Knowing he may never be able to express his acceptance verbally, the younger of them strove to put as much unprocessed emotion into the exchange as he could. _…I suppose I could get used to this._

All too fast, Fuji broke off the embrace, pulling back just and inch so that their breath still mixed and tickled each other's faces. Despite his huge disappointment at the kiss ending, Ryoma found himself smiling slightly.

Fuji's nimble fingers traced up his neck, weighing less than a butterfly might. Drawing a light loop around Ryoma's tattoo and coming back around to caress the younger teen's jaw line, the brunet whispered softly, "Echizen Ryoma, I love you, and I _swear_ that I will always protect you."

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><p><strong>*Elbowing you playfully* Huh, HUHHHH? Makes up for last chapter, doesn't it? Do we all see what I meant when I said I'd have to beat Ryoma into submission, children?<strong>


	17. The Plate Glass Angel

**XD Loved the reactions (last chapter got the most reviews yet! Arigatou!). I'm glad that they're together, too, though. And as for the voice thing, he can still "talk" and it's not like he used his voice all that much anyways… -3-**

**Oh, and new rules. **_**"Yadablah"= **_**Ryoma "talking" and "Yadablah"= normal talking.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Sixteen: The Plate Glass Angel

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><p>The glint of green shone in the early morning sun as a strand of hair was twirled around a slender finger. Momentarily distracted from his previous train of thought, Ryoma pondered the habit he had picked up after he grew his hair out. It was something he did when he was bored, and Lord knows he was bored right now.<p>

As it so turned out, Fuji was the only one capable of lip-reading consistently, so it was either learn sign language, write _everything_ that he wanted to say, (too time consuming) or have Fuji follow him everywhere and translate, so to speak.

_Fuji._

Inadvertently straying back to his last thought process, the boy began thinking about his newly formed relationship with the genius, if that was what it could be considered.

This whole fiasco had started so fast, and to think that this time yesterday he'd been playing capture the flag with peroxide head…

Setting his arm down, as he was still irritatingly weak, he thought about what had transpired since the events of Field Day. Try as he might to skip around the part that still sent shudders down his spine, Ryoma could still feel the pain. Every punch, the white-hot slash across his chest, the arm around his throat, all burned agonizingly bright in his mind. He reached up again to trace the clean lines of his bandages.

_Mute… Mute… _

The word rang through his head endlessly, in a ceaseless litany designed to wear down his mind. The only person he could even have some semblance of a conversation with now was Fuji, and even so he was still trapped inside with only his glum thoughts for company.

_Disabled… Crippled… Mute… Mute…_

On top of that, everyone was already treating him as if he were about to break. So what if he was a little banged up? He was totally fine.

For the most part.

One of the big problems was that he had been unable to protect himself. When those bastards had first found him behind the clubhouse, they'd caught him without a problem. _How pathetic… Maybe I should start learning martial arts or something. As of right now, I'm totally useless._

The boy closed his eyes with a sigh, trying to collect his thoughts. Rolling over to one side, he drew his eyebrows together. This was hitting him far too hard for his own taste; he needed to pull himself together.

_This sucks. I'm being weak and useless._

Even Fuji, who was apparently in _love_ with him, was handling him with the utmost delicacy.

And then there was the whole love thing.

He was already largely reconciled with the fact that he was probably gay, but did he really want this? Moreover, did he want this with his gentle looking upperclassman? The kiss had felt _so_ good, and Fuji was caring, intelligent, extremely pretty, and could provide interesting conversation. The brunet would easily keep Ryoma on his toes, and give the boy a challenging, exciting life.

But love?

Finally noticing the pattern in his thoughts, Ryoma made himself simply _stop_. If he could stop, he could get some peace of mind, and hopefully some sleep. Sleep always helped. Letting the tranquilizing effects of his meds take over, the small teen released his grip on reality.

~X~

Fuji opened the door as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the room's occupant. At the sight that met him, however, he smiled broadly.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, highlighting the twirling dust motes. A vase of wildflowers sat on the bedside table, seeming to glow in the golden light. These two made the room, despite its sterile hospital atmosphere, seem warm and welcoming. What really completed the picture, though, was the figure sleeping peacefully in a pool of light.

Ryoma's hair was splayed around him, gleaming and shimmering. His skin seemed to glow, regardless of its pallor. His lips were parted slightly as he softly breathed in and out, and his brow remained clear and unknotted by nightmares. The petite teen was a perfect image of ethereal innocence, vulnerability, and above all, beauty. It was like an angel composed of the finest glass.

The brunet sat down next to his glass angel's bedside, careful not to disturb anything. Gently, he began to stroke the boy's hand, slowly letting his injured subconscious get used to the touch before switching to feather-light skims to reassuring caresses. If he'd judged correctly, Ryoma would now have an extreme aversion to physical contact that would take time to get over.

This aversion was mainly the result of Fuji's mistakes, so it would be his job to heal his little precious person.

_Ara?_

Caught up in his thoughts, the brunet had failed to notice as a pair of golden eyes fluttered open and focused on his face. Only when the owner of said eyes tugged on his sleeve sharply did Fuji notice that the room's other occupant had woken up.

Ryoma was glaring at him irritably, apparently miffed about having to employ physical contact to get someone's attention. "_You look way too serious,"_ he mouthed.

"I was thinking about something serious."

"_What?"_

"Just… what's been happening the past day," Fuji replied with slight hesitation, frowning slightly.

"_Me too."_ Barely disguising his sadness, Ryoma looked out the window to the cheerful, lively streets of Tokyo. Everything was still going, the world still turning.

"It'll be fine, Ryoma. I promise."

A wry smile crept onto the boy's face, and he leaned back tiredly. Fuji hated that smile; it was too bitter, too cynical, too jaded. _"Don't make promises you can't keep, Fuji-senpai."_

"Whoever said I can't keep it?" the genius retorted.

"_You can't always be here. Things happen, and you know that."_

"I seem to remember saying that I'd protect you."

"_I don't need protection,"_ replied Ryoma as he turned to his companion, eyes narrowing.

"Clearly you do."

"_Right, because this happens every day."_ Had Ryoma been able to speak, he would have loaded that sentence with sarcasm. _"Listen. It wasn't either of our faults. You're making this into way too big of a deal."_

"I already told you my stance on this, and I'm not changing it."

At this, Fuji had to crane his neck a bit just so he could see what Ryoma was "saying," as the boy had turned his face away. _"Any of it?"_

Smiling once more, and knowing perfectly well what the boy was referring to, Fuji said quietly in response, "Any of it."

To the brunet's (masterfully hidden) dismay, though, Ryoma tensed slightly at the statement, eyes widening. "Ryo-chan."

"Ryoma?"

Still no response. His delicate brows creasing slightly, Fuji thought about what might have gone wrong. When he'd kissed Ryoma last night, it had been a spur of the moment decision, but that wasn't to say he regretted it. No, he'd never regret it. Ryoma had kissed back, and hadn't made any attempt to get Fuji off of him, so it wasn't like the boy had been opposed to kissing his upperclassman. Had it been too sudden? Possibly, even Fuji would admit that it had been out of the blue. _I suppose there's only one way to find out…_

"Do you not like me?" The question was simple, inquisitive, and devoid of any negative emotions.

Slowly, very slowly, Ryoma shook his head. The teen's lips parted before he began mouthing hesitantly. _"It's not that, it's just that I…"_

"Did you not know you were gay?"

Sighing in exasperation and beginning to slip back into his usual self, Ryoma continued. "_I thought I just wasn't attracted to people in general. It's just weird."_

"Bad weird?" Sensing that the focus of his affections wasn't totally averse to being in a relationship, Fuji began cheering up. A teasing tone crept into his voice and an amused smile stretched his lips.

The hospitalized teen glared at him, (though it ended up looking like a cute pout from Fuji's point of view) but replied nonetheless. _"Not really, I guess. Just… weird."_

Realizing exactly what was wrong, the brunet's smile widened even further. "That was your first kiss, wasn't it?" At Ryoma's irritated little eye-twitch, Fuji had to keep himself from bursting out laughing. "So it was? I'm guessing that means I'm your first partner?" he questioned laughingly, making sure that the last sentence was gender-neutral.

"_So what?"_ The boy was looking thoroughly irritated, and he was blushing slightly to boot.

"_So_, I'm glad that no one else got to you before me."

"_Got to me?"_ the boy echoed, quirking an eyebrow.

"Mm-hm," the genius replied placidly, nodding. "Either way, you _do_ like me, correct?"

The boy twitched again, sinking into his pillows. As he did, Fuji noticed the slightest up and down bobbing of Ryoma's head. Knowing full well that this was as close to a yes as he would ever get, the brunet hummed contentedly and lightly grasped the boy's hand. _I'm glad_.

~One Week Later~

"So? How's he doing?"

Murasaki blinked as a crowd of very large teenage boys, all staring at him intently, ambushed him. While most of them he vaguely recognized, one in particular stood out to him. The feminine boy with chestnut hair and closed eyes had come by every day to check on the hospital's celebrity patient, Echizen Ryoma. Each time, he'd sat by the injured teen's bedside, talking with him, reassuring him, or simply watching as he slept, like a guardian angel.

Turning to face the two teens at the front, the same two who had asked after Echizen's condition, the man began to speak loudly, so that everyone in the room could hear. "Echizen-kun is doing well, surprisingly so, actually. Some of his bruises are fading, and the cut on his chest is healing extraordinarily quickly. We think he'll be ready for release in about a week. It's still going to be a while before he can move around normally, though."

At the raised eyebrows and "get on with it" looks, Murasaki sighed heavily. "His larynx, however, still needs much more time. While it is showing some signs of healing, it's still unclear as to whether Echizen-kun will ever be able to speak again."

Well used to the somber responses that came after equally somber news, the doctor bowed out of the room. It was always best to leave visitors to themselves at times like this.

As the door shut quietly, several of the teammates looked at each other in concern. After taking a steadying breath, Oishi spoke up. "Well, should be go see him now?"

"Aa! Let's go cheer Ochibi up, nya!" exclaimed Kikumaru, punching the air energetically. The redhead led the way to Ryoma's room, all the while telling Oishi about the various magazines and books he'd brought for their baby's entertainment.

Once Kikumaru banged the ward's door open, he was met with a pair of glaring golden eyes. The irritated boy sitting in bed mouthed something, as if he were actually speaking.

"Eh… Fuji-senpai, translation, please?" muttered Momo.

"He said that you're noisy," the brunet said as he laughed, though it was unclear if it was at Momo or whatever the freshman had said.

"Mou! Ochibi's so mean! Even when he can't talk, he's mean!" Kikumaru whined loudly as he went over to his boyfriend (while not truly looking upset). The remaining five boys gathered around Ryoma's bed and sat down, inquiring after the boy's health.

Using gestures, body language, and slow mouthing, the boy responded as best he could. He really hated the need for Fuji to translate for him, and so he tried to communicate in any other way that he could.

"Guess what, brat? Murasaki-sensei said that you'll be able to leave in a week!" explained Momo loudly, not bothering to contain his excitement.

Ryoma raised his eyebrows in surprise, lips parting slightly. Quickly wiping the "huh?" look off of his face, the patient quickly replaced it with one of irritation. "_No one ever tells me anything,"_ he mouthed loosely. Had he been able to speak, the statement would surely have come out as an irritated mumble. He leaned back gingerly, trying not to disturb the bandages on his chest. While Fuji translated what he'd just said he allowed his thoughts to drift aimlessly. Soon, though, the boy's wandering mind noticed the fact that there were two less people than usual visiting him. "_Why aren't peroxide head and baka-aniki here?"_

Fuji was the one to reply, tilting his head slightly. "They said that they had to deal with the media, since your parents were busy with the lawsuit."

Ryoma nodded, looking somewhat sympathetic (empathetic, at the very least). By now, people would be wondering why he hadn't been seen or heard from in a week, and the paparazzi never stayed quiet for long.

"Kevin asked me to tell you that he was learning to lip read, though. He doesn't seem to enjoy the three way conversations very much," Fuji continued.

Ryoma snorted. _Leave it to peroxide head… _Looking back up, he commented dryly, "_I bet that'll get him a few weird looks._"

"Yes, I imagine people would find it strange when he starts homing in on the lips of whoever's talking at the moment," chuckled the brunet.

Giving his upperclassman a freaked out stare, Momo jumped into the conversation. "You make that sound a whole new level of creepy, Fuji-senpai, you know that?"

The prodigy's only reply to that was more soft laughter.

Ryoma sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head in slight amusement. As annoying and insane as his friends were, he was glad for all their visits. The company may very well have been the only thing keeping him completely sane. The boy closed his eyes, a sense of contentment drifting over him. The soft chatter filling the room was soothing, and he'd been overly sleepy this past week. A short nap on his part wouldn't hurt anyone. _Heeh… Maybe I am narcoleptic…_

~X~

"Ah. He's out," observed Momo.

"There's a 68.74% chance that it was caused by his meds," said Inui by way of response.

"Should we stay or head back, then?" came Kaidoh's low, rumbling voice from the corner where he'd sat down.

"We should leave," said Tezuka, standing up. "We don't want to disturb Echizen's rest, and there's still school tomorrow. Let's go."

"Eh? But we just got here!" whined Kikumaru, visibly wilting. Momo decided to join in, loudly voicing his piece. Instead Tezuka stepping in, however, it was Fuji to intervene.

An eerie black aura filling the air around him, the brunet popped up behind his two loud teammates. "Maa, maa. Tezuka said that we should go home, and Ryoma's sound asleep. You two wouldn't want to disturb him, would you?" The question (which had come out as an open threat) stopped both teenagers in their tracks, each of them freezing with wide eyes and a deathly pallor.

Almost as if they'd rehearsed it, Momo and Kikumaru backed out quickly, rubbing the back of their heads. "No, no, of course not! Well, we'll be waiting up front!" they chorused, bolting out the door.

_That was easy,_ thought Fuji, sauntering out after them. As he passed through the doorway, he looked over his shoulder at the boy sleeping peacefully on his hospital bed. _Until tomorrow, Ryoma._

The rest of the teens left quietly, Tezuka shutting the door softly behind them. As they walked through the hospital's main lobby, Oishi had to literally drag Kikumaru and Momo away from the small coffee shop while Inui hailed a cab.

The whole way home, Fuji's thoughts seemed to be in a completely different place. Though his smile hadn't faltered, the genius had stared out the window the entire time, pondering something.

What exactly he'd been thinking about came out during dinner that night. Setting down his chopsticks, the brunet cleared his throat. "Sorry, everyone, but can I ask you something?"

As the chatter died down, several of the teammates looked at Fuji questioningly. Inui, on the other hand, didn't even bother to look up, having figured out what his friend had to say somehow. "What's up, Fujiko?" asked Kikumaru, blinking in curiosity.

"I was just thinking, Kevin's right. You should all learn to lip-read, to make things easier on Ryoma." As much as Fuji hated to admit it, he couldn't always be next to the boy, and being able to communicate somewhat normally with his housemates would make adjusting to the loss of his voice much easier.

It was at this point that Inui chimed in, looking up from the scribbles in his notebook. "I can easily acquire the necessary books, and I have a rough schedule for everyone to begin learning already written out."

"Eh… Inui-senpai? How did you know what Fuji-senpai was thinking of?" As per usual when dealing with the data master, Momo was smiling with a hint of nerves and had one eyebrow raised.

"Simple logic, reasoning, and observations," Inui replied calmly, making his glasses glint as he pushed them up his nose.

"So, do we all agree?" said Fuji, opening his eyes to half-mast.

All around the table, the icy blue orbs were met with encouraging nods and smiles. Oishi and Kikumaru were grinning with their arms wrapped loosely around each other, Kaidoh was already looking on at Inui's plans, Momo had just finished a fist pump, and even Tezuka had nodded approvingly.

Inwardly, (he'd been letting far too many emotions show as of late) Fuji chuckled. _Sounds like we're learning how to lip-read, then. It'll be interesting, that's for sure._


	18. Road to Recovery

**Hey! I forgot to tell you last time, but there's a picture of the kiss scene up on my DeviantArt account! I'd love for you to check it out, just remember that it's TOTALLY hand drawn, so don't expect anything fancy.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Seventeen: Road to Recovery

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><p>Arisawa Kenji was one of the patients lucky enough to be staying in one of Tokyo's largest, most expensive hospitals. He was also lucky because although he did need to be hospitalized, it was only because of a case of pneumonia gone wrong. Kenji was perfectly fine by now, in his opinion, and so he was now wandering the halls in search of something to do. Never mind if the doctors said he wasn't totally back to normal, and never mind if his parents had told him not to leave his room again. He was <em>bored.<em>

_Which way was the cafeteria again? Well, whatever. They have signs up everywhere in the lobby. _

At the very least, he could remember where that was. Remembering the elevators and large waiting area he'd just passed, Kenji turned around and headed back to the spacious room filled with chairs and softly murmuring visitors.

Ignoring the curious glances his hospital pajamas were drawing, the redheaded boy stepped into the elevator. In the walls, which were partially covered by mirrors, he saw his own large hazel eyes blinking back at him. _I'm way too pale; I've got to get back into the sun soon. _Sure enough, his usually tan skin was getting pale from being out of the sun's reach for so long. Well, he'd just eat outside, then.

When the elevator dinged, Kenji stepped out briskly, content at having found a purpose. As soon as he stepped out, however, he was assaulted by a wave of sound. A large group of teenage boys, probably about five years older than him, were taking up a good portion of the lobby. Oddly, though some of them looked like full-grown adults, others were only a bit larger than him. There were also at least five different hair colors among the group, and the facial expressions ranged from dead serious to tranquilly smiling to openly laughing. It was definitely a weird grouping.

In the center of it all stood the shortest of all of them, a tiny thing nearly swallowed up in all the people. Judging by the long black hair, it was a girl, but the narrow hips and choice of clothing said otherwise. _Well, I've seen stranger hair around Tokyo, (my own included) so I_ _guess that's not much to go on. He's a boy, then._

"Uwah! Oishi! Ochibi glared at me again!" exclaimed a teen with gravity-defying red hair. He jumped onto another visitor, a man taller than him with cropped black hair, and wrapped around him like a boa constrictor.

The quick movement revealed the tiny boy's face. He had large golden eyes that barely showed any emotion, only a hint of exasperation and amusement. His features were delicate, feminine, and (oddly) pretty. The unruly green-black hair that Kenji had noted earlier was pulled into a low ponytail, but that didn't stop the long bangs from obscuring "Ochibi's" forehead.

It was definitely a remarkable face, but what made it even more remarkable was the fact that Kenji had seen it plastered all over magazine covers, billboards, and television screens for the past two years. _Echizen… Ryoma?_

The famous tennis star was standing right there in front of him, clear as day. He had seen the young athlete on television countless times, performing feats of all kinds with a simple ball and racquet. _But… why is he here?_

Echizen was one of the most famous people in the world right now, and even if the tabloids had said that he was living around Tokyo again, Kenji couldn't think of why he would be in a hospital. _Maybe he's visiting someone? Or maybe he got-_

"Ken-ji."

A dark threatening voice called out behind him, slowly enunciating the two syllables of his name. The redhead froze, choking slightly and looking sick. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around.

A statuesque blonde nurse stood behind him, hands on her hips and eyebrows ticking. "Now, I _know_ you're not wandering around again when I _specifically_ told you not to."

"O-of course not, Nozomi-san," the boy managed to reply through his twitching.

In one clean swipe, the woman grabbed her charge's ear and began dragging him off, completely ignoring his struggling and flailing. "Back to bed!

~X~

As the loud complaints of a young patient getting dragged back to his room echoed through the lobby, Tezuka motioned for his team to leave.

"Ah, wait." The captain turned around to see Fuji looking at Ryoma while the boy mouthed something quickly. "Ryoma said he doesn't quite want to go back yet. I think he wants to get out a little."

"It would be a good idea for Echizen to take a walk and get some fresh air. He's been in bed for the past few weeks, so he should start regaining his strength a little," commented Oishi, seeming to like the idea.

Ryoma, although he was glad that he could get out for a while, wasn't very happy with his upperclassman's reasoning. He'd spent years building up muscles and stamina, and while yes, he was out of shape, it wasn't like he'd collapse after a little running. _Whatever. I'll take what I can get._

"I'll take him out to lunch, then," Fuji proclaimed happily.

The short boy's eye twitched and he gritted his teeth subtly. _Take what I can get. Take what I can get. Take what I can get._

"Sounds good! We haven't gone to that burger joint in forever!" At Momo's exclamation, Ryoma realized that the trickster meant the entire team.

"_No way!"_ he mouthed emphatically. It really was a pity that he couldn't shout anymore.

Even if his teammates hadn't been learning to read lips, there was no way they could have misinterpreted him.

Ryoga laughed loudly. "That hurts, Chibisuke. We get to see you out of a hospital bed for the first time in ages and you don't want to see us."

"_That's because you're too loud,"_ the boy responded, his face completely blank.

"Eh… Did Ochibi just call us loud again? I couldn't tell…" Kikumaru whispered loudly to Oishi.

"That he did," Ryoga confirmed, still chuckling slightly.

"Well, it's settled." Spinning on his heel, Fuji grabbed Ryoma's elbow and began frog-marching him out of the hospital. The young teen began mouthing angrily, and Kevin was roughly able to discern, "How is it settled?"

~X~

Ryoma lifted his face to the sun, enjoying the fresh breeze brushing against his skin. He didn't appreciate getting dragged off like a disobedient child, but he liked being out and about. The farther he walked, the more kinks he was able to get out of his muscles. The more kinks he was able to get out of his muscles, the freer he felt. It almost made everything seem normal.

_Then again, maybe "normal" isn't the right word, _he thought, feeling the fingers entwined with his. _For your own safety, he says. No one will notice or care, he says. _

Fuji had insisted on holding hands on the way to the café where they could have an outdoor lunch, stating that he didn't want to lose track of Ryoma in the crowds. _Even if that is his reason, I'm sick of the_ _giggles and "cute couple" comments._

The two walked in (somewhat) comfortable silence for a few blocks before Fuji stopped them in front of a small Italian restaurant with sidewalk seating. "We're here."

Quickly appraising the building, Ryoma nodded and walked in with his upperclassman. Inside, the restaurant was designed in a Tuscan theme, with earthy colors and a cozy atmosphere.

Before they had taken more than five steps inside, the hostess perked up and walked over to them. "Fuji-san! I haven't seen you around in ages; how've you been?" embracing him in a sisterly hug, she turned to her clipboard. "Do you want your table outside again?"

"Yes, Hana-san. For two," replied the brunet, indicating his companion.

"Ah! Isn't that-"

"Yes, it is," Fuji said, cutting the woman off. "We'd appreciate it if you didn't make a fuss." He smiled sweetly at her, tilting his head.

"Oh, I understand," she said, getting over her surprise and nodding. "We have a corner table on the patio that's open. How's that sound?"

"Perfect, thank you."

She led them out to the patio, where fences covered in delicate vines of ivory closed off the space from the bustling street. In a corner facing the street, Hana indicated for the two teens to sit down.

"Call me over whenever you're ready to order, 'kay?"

Ryoma nodded distractedly, already focusing on the menu. "_What's good here?"_

"The eggplant parmesan and the spaghetti bolognese, if memory serves," Fuji replied complacently, looking over his own. "This qualifies as a date, did you know?"

Ryoma, who had been taking a sip of water, quickly found out that it was possible to choke on a drink and do a spit-take with it at the same exact time. "_What the hell are you talking about?" _

"Well, when a man and another much smaller man love each other very much-"

"_You've got to be kidding."_

Fuji laughed, waving one hand dismissively. "I am, I am. But you have to admit, this is quite a bit like a-"

"_Don't even say it. Don't even _think_ about saying it_."

This was _too_ weird. He was totally used to weird, but this was just… wrong. His upperclassman, a person he'd known for years as a really creepy friend, was saying that they were on a date. No. No, no, _no. _

"I'm thinking of quite a few things right now, Ryo-chan." At the brunet's reply and its implications, Ryoma shivered. This was apparently very funny, as Fuji immediately began laughing again. "Okay, sorry. I'm done."

"_Tch. Doubtful._"

"Ah, is someone still grumpy from being in the hospital too long?" Fuji was still laughing slightly, obviously enjoying the banter. He had missed teasing Ryoma without interference of other people.

"_Damn straight I am."_

Before Fuji could taunt him again, Hana arrived with her notepad in hand, asking if they were ready to order. After she had left and Ryoma had calmed down sufficiently, the dark haired boy placed his chin on the heel of his hand and gazed out at the street, in a state of pensive thought.

Fuji followed suit, happy to sit peacefully. After several minutes just sitting and enjoying each other's presence, Ryoma suddenly turned his head. "_So," _he began, waiting for the brunet to turn his head and lip read properly, "_What comes next?"_

Tilting his head to the side and opening his eyes halfway, the genius stirred his drink slowly. "Who knows? What do you want to happen next?"

Choosing to only respond to the tennis related meaning and nothing else, Ryoma looked up from his own drink, eyes burning. "_I want to go win the US Open."_

Fuji's eyes shot open all the way, homing in on the boy. "No."

Ryoma narrowed his eyes, accepting the challenge to a staring contest. "_I wasn't asking for permission."_

"And I don't care. You're not going."

"_Why the hell not? You're not the boss of me and I need to win."_

"That may be true, but I care about you and don't want you going to New York City when you're still recovering." The two began to feel the stress of the past few weeks building up, heating their tempers. Even Fuji, so calm and collected, was struggling to keep his composure.

"_I'm not crippled, whatever you think. I promised I'd get the damn trophy again and I will," _replied Ryoma, glaring. He wasn't made of glass, for god's sake.

"I know you're not, but the fact remains that if you strain yourself, the stitches on your chest might break, not all of your bruises are gone, and _you can't speak."_

As Ryoma's eyes widened with something akin to hurt, Fuji instantly found himself regretting his words. "I'm sorry."

"_Doesn't matter."_ The freshman's face belied his words, though, as it had become sullen and closed off. Knowing full well that the boy was in no mood to talk, Fuji stayed silent. When Hana returned with their lunches some minutes later, it came as a huge relief.

The two began eating, (though in Ryoma's case, it was better described as devouring) still not breaking the silence.

Luckily, eating copious amounts of something other than hospital food had relaxed the younger of the two, and the tension had eased between them before the meal was finished. Once both had finished their meals, Fuji called Hana over, asking for the check. It was brought right away and, despite Ryoma's silent objections, paid for by the brunet.

"Are you ready to go?" inquired Fuji as he stood gracefully, offering his hand. Reluctantly, since he was apparently still upset, Ryoma accepted it. "Do you want to go back now, or do you want to stay out a little longer?"

"_Stay out. I don't really care where we go."_

The brunet nodded, a destination already in mind. They were still not back to their normal level of comfort together, and he wanted to make amends. Leading the boy by the hand again, Fuji brought them to a park, peaceful, vibrant, and beautiful. Cobbled pathways wound lazily through the green expanse, and trees and plants stood in small clusters. A little ways off, some children were playing soccer under their parents' supervision, and an empty swing set rested in a nearby grove of young trees. The faint sounds of a woman chatting with an ice cream vendor could be heard from somewhere beyond the bend in the pathway.

Ryoma's lips had parted slightly at the picturesque scene, but he now turned to Fuji. "_Where is this?"_

"It's a park my parents would sometimes take us to when Yuuta, Yumiko and I were children. What do you think?" The brunet wore a gentle smile as he explained, remembering days gone by.

"…_It's nice."_

"I'm glad you think so." Fuji led them over to the swing set, letting the small boy settle down. Smiling mischievously, he then began to walk off. "I'll be right back."

Ryoma started and began to get up, but fell back as his chaperone pointed between his blinking gold eyes. "Sit. Stay."

"Tch."

To his delight, the boy had recently found that saying "tch" did not require the use of vocal chords. All he had to do was move his tongue correctly and send air through. He crossed his arms and looked off to the side, completing the image of an upset toddler.

_Dear me. He's pouting, isn't he? _thought Fuji as he walked away from the swings. _Now where was that ice cream man?_

~X~

"I hope you like vanilla."

Ryoma looked up to see his upperclassman holding two cones of ice cream, both a perfect creamy white. "_Yeah. Thanks."_

He accepted the cone and began licking slowly, looking at the ground with unfocused eyes. Noticing his glum mood, (and the enticing way his tongue swept over the ice cream) Fuji decided that it was time to speak up. "I really am sorry about what I said. It was insensitive."

"_Not really. It's true."_ As he spoke, Ryoma's face seemed to become even more downcast.

"Hey," said Fuji, gently grabbing the boy's chin and bringing them eye-to-eye. "It'll be fine. That time, I meant what I said."

The boy thought back to his first night in the hospital, the confession, the promise, the kiss. It seemed that the brunet looking into his eyes was doing the same, too. In the blink of an eye, he had pulled them together and kissed the boy sweetly. It was much more chaste than their first kiss, but was still just as passionate.

Recovering from his shock, Ryoma pulled back. "_Oi, we're in public!_"

Smiling mischievously again, Fuji leaned in until their lips were almost brushing. "So give them a show. They'll all think you're a girl anyways." At this, Ryoma glared, but in his somewhat unstable state, it came out looking like a pout. "You're really not helping your case with that face, cutie."

To smother the protests that he knew would come, Fuji sealed them in a heated kiss, working his tongue into Ryoma's mouth and using it to explore. To his credit, the small high schooler was able to resist somewhat, briefly battling for dominance. Eventually, though, he melted, and became content with leaving the older teen in charge. The brunet's kisses were incredible, full of passion and love, but still gentle and caring.

Fuji found himself thinking along the same lines as he tilted his head to the other side, gasping quietly for breath. The way Ryoma went about kissing, from what he could gather, was still a little hesitant and inexperienced, though he knew first hand that the boy learned quickly. All the same, once he relented and began to kiss back, Ryoma's taste, his tongue, his smell, his everything was addictive. _I can't get enough of it._

Eventually, the two parted, both slightly flushed. "Am I forgiven?" asked Fuji, quickly regaining his composure.

The boy flashed an impish grin with his eyes back to their usual gleam. "_I guess I can think about it._"

"Is that so?" The older of the two felt his body relax as they began to banter again. Suddenly, though, the tension returned as Ryoma reached for his ice cream and dragged his finger around it in one quick swipe. In the same motion, his brought the digit to his lips and licked the sweet cream slowly.

"_It was dripping," _he observed, keeping his face deliberately blank. He watched with amusement as his companion's eyes shot open and his cheeks flushed. _So the great "tensai" can be phased, huh?_

After a brief pause, Fuji relaxed and smiled again. "Keep pulling stuff like that and you'll get in trouble one day. Quite possibly with me."

"_Gotcha."_

At the blasé answer, the brunet stood again, offering his hand. Ryoma took it and they began to walk slowly, still licking away at their cones. "Are you ready to go home?"

The teen's green hair danced lazily as he looked around. "_Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, I guess."_

For once, Fuji gave an honest, warm smile. "Not at all. Now, the school's this way."

After ten minutes of walking through the lively streets of Tokyo, the soaring buildings gradually gave way to a more residential, peaceful area. When they were almost back to Seishun Kokou, however, Ryoma suddenly halted in his tracks. Following the boy's gaze, Fuji saw a large, simple building contained by walls. Seishun Gakuen.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" he commented, thinking about the fun times and unforgettable days spent inside those walls. Those had been an incredible three years, the last of them especially.

Even Ryoma was smiling a tiny bit, eyes roaming over the familiar setting. "_Yeah."_

"Who'd have thought back then that-"

"_That all this weird shit would happen?" _interjected Ryoma, smirking.

"Pretty much," replied the brunet, pulling the freshman in for a brief kiss. "So… Are we officially boyfriends now?"

He smiled as Ryoma gagged and looked at him incredulously. "_Where did that come from?"_

"Who knows…"

To make things better, the boy actually face palmed, shaking his head. "_Just… Whatever. Sure."_

At the irritated agreement, Fuji hummed in joy. _That was oddly nerve-wracking. But he said yes, so it's fine. _In an attempt to show how glad he was, the third year leaned down and kissed his newly declared boyfriend again. "I'm glad," he said when they parted. "Now, everyone's probably waiting."

Ryoma nodded, and the two continued to their school. Once inside the grounds, it took another few minutes to reach their dorm. Looking up at the large building for the first time in weeks, the shorter of them was surprised to find that he'd missed the place. _Who'd have thought. _

"As beautiful as the dorm is, I think Momo will come and drag us in if we stay to long."

The boy started at Fuji's joking statement, having been in his own world. "_Aa."_

Like a gentleman, his upperclassman opened the door and gestured for his tiny lover to enter. The first thing he noticed was the unnatural silence. Either everyone was out wreaking havoc elsewhere or something was up.

"Welcome home!"

_Nope. Definitely the second one._ Ryoma's lips parted and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw the packed, festive interior of his dorm. Streamers, and balloons brightened up the room and confetti from a cannon rained down on him. A large banner saying, "Welcome back, Ryoma!" was pinned to the banister in between the slide and the staircase. Taking up all of the floor space were countless old faces. Acquaintances from his freshman year of middle school, dangerous rivals, family, and friends could all be spotted amidst the sea of faces. He could see most, if not all, of the regulars from Rikkai Dai, Rokkaku, and Hyotei, the freshman trio, and his family looking at him with various sized grins.

His mother and father approached first and each gave him a large hug. "Welcome back, sweetheart," his mother whispered in his ear.

"Yo, seishounen. You feeling better?" asked his father playfully, ruffling his hair.

Slowly, his look of surprise morphed into a smile. Fuji, who had stood by his side through it all, squeezed his hand. "Welcome home, Ryoma."

* * *

><p><strong>Isn't that sweet? Now, I won't be talking about the party next chapter, but if someone can give me a good prompt for it, I might post it as an omake or one-shot. <strong>

**What did you think of Kenji? I had just used him to open the chapter up a little differently and wasn't planning on bringing him back, but I can if you want me to. **


	19. Stir Crazy

**Okay, first, to all the new faces and the loyal reviewers who've been with me since the start, thank you so much. My first story has only gotten so far thanks to you, and I love you so much!**

**That said, this chapter will quite possibly look like crap. First of all, I just wasn't really feeling this one. More importantly, though, my lovely beta Self is on break from school and has decided to drop off the face of the Earth, so this is (dun-dun-dun-DUUUNNNN) un-beta'd! Self, you can rip the chapter apart later.**

* * *

><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Eighteen: Stir Crazy

* * *

><p>Weak moonlight shone through the vast windows, bathing the room in a pale silver glow. Light colors in the space appeared to be bleached white, and even the darker tones had an ethereal luminescence. In the peaceful room, the sounds of two people breathing steadily were all that could be heard.<p>

Suddenly, however, one of the occupants scrunched their eyebrows together and grimaced. The sounds of gritting teeth and slightly hitched breaths filled the room. On the large bed, a tiny figure trembled and jerked spasmodically. The person's mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound came out.

As the shudders and twitches escalated into full-blown thrashes and convulsions, another figure stirred across the room. They sat up in their bed, rubbing their eyes. "Ryoma…? Ryoma!" The person jumped off of their bed and quickly walked over to where the room's other inhabitant tossed and turned violently, trapped in the depths of a nightmare.

Trying to be as gentle as possible, the larger of the two teens pinned down the smaller teen's arms and brought them down to his trembling sides. Making sure not to hurt either of them, the conscious teen wrapped the small frame into a firm embrace and began stroking the shaking person's soft green-black hair. Soft murmurs began to replace the sounds of restless tossing.

"Hush… It's okay, you're fine now. Sh…"

Several minutes passed like this, the two thin figures entwined tightly while one soothed the other. After the shaking stopped, the taut muscles relaxed, and the creases disappeared from the small person's brow, the larger of them disentangled themselves with one last calming caress. As soon as they had broken contact, though, the tiny person's hand fisted on the sheets and their lips pressed together in a frown.

Slightly surprised at the sudden change, the standing teen smiled sadly. They lay back down softly and drew the little figure into their arms once more. A soft laugh echoed in the silent room as they noticed how the small person relaxed instantly. "I'll stay with you then. I fear you'll kill me in the morning, though…"

~X~

Ryoma stirred slightly, making the covers rustle. Sunlight was streaming onto his bed and making the space pleasantly warm. _No… There's something else. _His senses were slowly coming alive, and he was soon aware of the weight on his shoulders, the firm chest pressed against his, and the neck that he was nuzzling into. _Oh, hell no!_

The boy's golden eyes shot open and he jerked back as far as he could, mouth wide open and shaking slightly. He had been pressed up against Fuji, hugging him, and the brunet had been doing the same.

Fuji woke at the sudden movement, ever the light sleeper. He immediately felt like laughing at his boyfriend's incredulous face.

"_What the hell?" _mouthed Ryoma, who made it abundantly clear that he was "shouting."

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" asked the brunet complacently, sitting up and stretching.

"_Why are you in my bed?" _demanded the boy.

Deciding to have his fun, Fuji smiled devilishly. "Do you really want to know?"

At this, Ryoma paled. Trying to restrain himself and preserve some of his dignity, he stood up. "_You know what? I'm wearing all my clothes so I don't care._" He strode into the bathroom without looking back.

As he heard the door slam shut, Fuji couldn't help but laugh a little bit. He stood and walked over to his bed, which was the type that had drawers built into the bottom, got out his uniform for school, and placed it in his bag.

By the time he had gotten dressed in his tennis clothes and quickly run a comb through his hair, Ryoma had stepped out of the bathroom. Instead of the uniform, though, he wore a hoodie and jeans, and he had left his hair down. It had been decided yesterday (a quiet Sunday that everyone had used to catch up on sleep lost due to staying up at the party) that the boy would stay home on Monday so that he could go over the material he had missed. This arrangement would also mean that the staff could be informed in advance of Ryoma's special circumstances.

He would walk with them to morning practice as per usual, but instead of going to the courts, Fuji would accompany him to the principal's office and together, they would explain the situation. Afterwards, Ryoma would go back to the dorm to email his teachers and catch up on work.

It had taken a good portion of dinner last night to calm his complaints (after all, no one would want to be cooped up inside all day doing homework) and Momo and Kaidoh arguing in the background hadn't helped. On top of their usual yelling, the two had somehow managed to sweep Kikumaru's food onto the floor before being silenced by Tezuka, and the redhead had been complaining about it all night. It made Fuji want to sigh that last night's meal wasn't even their most chaotic.

When the brunet returned to his senses, he found Ryoma looking at him with one eyebrow raised in an "are you coming or what" manner.

"Ah, sorry, I spaced out."

The boy in the doorway shot him another look before turning and walking out into the hallway. He was shaking his head in a way that clearly said "weirdo."

~X~

Ryoma was not happy. It was absolutely gorgeous out; the sun was shining and there was a light breeze. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so. In short, it was the perfect day to be outside.

And then here we was, inside, doing schoolwork.

As it so turned out, missing school for two weeks on end can make for an absolutely huge pileup of work. He had received a nice healthy review packet from all of his teachers and killed several trees printing them out. Now the results were scattered over his bed, almost completely covering the midnight blue covers with white. The material in the packets was nothing he hadn't seen before, as he'd managed to get ahead of a freshman's ordinary curriculum during his time away, but his teachers had made it abundantly clear that if he slacked on these packets the way he did in class, he wouldn't be able to make up for his time in the hospital. If his grades dropped _that _much, it might just be enough to get him kicked off the tennis team.

So here he was, sitting alone in the dorm doing monotonously easy schoolwork on a gorgeous day. He had already gone downstairs and made himself a huge lunch about an hour ago, and he somehow couldn't force himself to sleep. Momo had told him (on the pain of having anything tennis-related taken from him) that he wasn't allowed to walk down to the tennis courts and exercise a little, as he might hurt himself. There was _nothing_ to do.

_I am so bored,_ he groaned mentally, flopping back on his bed. He flinched slightly as he felt his chest twinge. The very thought of the puckered, angry red scar stretching across his chest made him want to just go to sleep and shut out the world. He wanted it _gone._ Apparently there were a few treatments that could get rid of such scars, and the fact that the initial wound hadn't been very deep would only help the process. Therefore, the damn thing was getting removed as soon as he was healed.

Remembering the obscene amount of paper on his bed, he doggedly sat back up. Just one more pathetically easy section and his math work would be finished. After that, all he had to do was English and that wouldn't take long. He wanted this work done _today. _True, his teachers had given him a few days to finish, but he knew getting the work in earlier was infinitely less painful than doing it later.

After scrawling down the last equation's answer, Ryoma stood and stretched. If he couldn't play tennis, he would just have to settle for the next best thing. Over the past three years, his upperclassmen had accumulated a healthy amount of video games, no few of them centered on his favorite pastime.

Ten minutes later he was in the game room, sorting through the DVD cases. Settling on one, he got to work. He was still in the room playing Wii two hours later when his teammates got back to the dorm. Ryoma heard footsteps coming down the hallway, but paid it no mind.

"That bored, huh?" asked Momo with a grin as he walked in on the household's resident brat killing their Wii at tennis.

Moving deliberately, as if to show just how important his rebut would be, Ryoma paused the game and turned around. "_Shut up._"

"Hey! That's one of the phrases I can understand! It was the first thing Fuji-senpai taught us!" yelled the second year as he laughed. The little freshman just scowled and went back to his game, which he was currently winning five games to one. As the boy scored another point, Momo walked up to him and ruffled his hair (since it was definitely too soon for a headlock). "Okay antisocial, just wanted you to know that Tezuka caved for once in his life and he's letting us go out for burgers today. You can't miss that, no you can't."

"_Go away. I'll be down in a second."_

The trickster, who had truthfully only caught the rough meaning of Ryoma's words, laced his fingers behind his head and began to saunter off. "Now you're finally beginning to sound like a true teenager. Ah, youth."

Making his avatar serve viciously, Ryoma scored the final point. "_Tch. Idiot,"_ he said with a slight smirk. Shutting down the Wii, he walked out of the room.

Going out for burgers would be fun. After two weeks stuck in a hospital bed, he couldn't get enough of the outdoors.

Fifteen minutes later, after much chaos and disturbing of the peace, the nine tennis players stood outside Momo's favorite burger joint. They strode in with Tezuka's glares being the only thing keeping them relatively quiet.

Oishi went to order their food, since he was the least intimidating. The others went off to find a table large enough for them, and settled down as quietly as one could expect from them. Going out for burgers was a rare privilege, and no one would put it past Tezuka to make them leave because they were too loud.

A few minutes later, the mother hen returned with their food and Momo and Ryoma launched into one of their customary eating competitions. The second year managed to speak around a mouthful of burger, saying, "You're so going down, brat."

The boy only smirked and began eating with more gusto.

Around the table, the remaining teammates began digging in. There was next to no conversation as the teens wolfed down the food (Tezuka had chosen not to have a burger and prepare something more healthy for himself when they got back home, though). Ten minutes later, they were left with full stomachs, content smiles, and empty trays.

It was during this lull in activity that Ryoma turned to Fuji. The brunet sat up intently, noticing that the freshman had his "serious face" on. "_Do you remember what I said the other day?"_

"About?"

"_The US Open."_

Fuji nodded slowly, not liking where the conversation was going. "Yes, I remember. I don't suppose you've changed your mind?"

"_No, I haven't."_

Ryoma's eyes were sparking with determination, and Fuji knew that the boy wouldn't be deterred. "Try to see it from my point of view, Ryoma, please. I don't want you going to America when you're not fully healed yet."

"_I don't have to go for a few more days,"_ he stated plainly. "_And I wouldn't actually have to try for at least another week after that. It's actually not a bad way to get back in shape."_

It wasn't as if Fuji couldn't see where Ryoma was coming from, but he still firmly held on to his own opinion. That opinion was that, if left alone in a huge city in his state, Ryoma would end up getting himself hurt again. The genius knew how important winning the Open was for the boy, and he knew how much Ryoma wanted to continue life as usual. On the other hand, however, he also knew what cities were like, especially for someone so small and feminine, and therefore didn't want Ryoma leaving his side. As if the boy was reading his thoughts, though, Fuji found himself pinned by a glare that dared him to speak his mind. He sighed. _I'm going to have to meet him half way, aren't I…_

"What if I went with you?" he said, as it was the first viable compromise that came to mind.

"_No way."_

Well. That stung. Fuji was about to reply, and dramatize his slightly hurt feelings as much as he could, but Ryoma wasn't finished.

"_If I go, then I'll be gone until the second or third week of September. The Kanto Tournament will have started by then, and the team can't lose both of us," _explained the freshman in a characteristically blunt manner.

"Well, surely you're not planning on going alone," said Fuji. He _might_ be able to let Ryoma go to the Open, if only because he knew how important it was to the boy, but he sure as hell wasn't letting Ryoma go alone.

"_I know. I can take peroxide head."_

The brunet's smile almost dropped completely into a frown as he found his logical arguments being taken down one by one. He was torn, unable to choose between what his boyfriend wanted and what _he_ wanted. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

Ryoma stared levelly. He could see that Fuji was about to crack, and wouldn't mess it up now. He nodded seriously, trying to say with his eyes how important it was.

"But you'd be gone for two weeks. For you to be gone that long…" Though he would never admit it out loud, Fuji would miss the boy dearly.

"_It's not that long," _replied Ryoma. Swallowing his pride, he said, "_Please?"_ The word was completely foreign on his tongue.

Fortunately for him, though, Fuji knew full well how much the word meant. He could count on one hand the number of times that he'd heard it from the boy sitting next to him.

The brunet sighed, finally giving in. "Excuse me," he said, catching his friends' attention. "Ryoma and I were just talking, and he wanted me to tell you something. The US Open starts in a little less than a week, and he wants to go with Kevin."

Silence fell on the table, and all nine faces focused on the feminine duo. Seeing the dead serious look on Ryoma's face, as well as the slightly resigned look on Fuji's, the team immediately broke into a debate.

The arguing carried on for a minute, until Tezuka cleared his throat. Instantly, all fell silent. "Why?"

Fuji began explaining, recounting Ryoma's reasons and plans for the weeks to come. The team watched and listened carefully, and Inui had been writing for the past few minutes. After the brunet finished, Kevin was the first to speak up.

"Sounds like a plan. When are we leaving?"

"Oi, oi, wait. It's not like I don't want you to go, but are you sure you'll be okay, Echizen?" interjected Momo, who was in one of his rare worried moods.

"Are you saying I wouldn't be able to protect him?" asked Kevin, half joking.

"_I don't need you to protect me, peroxide head,"_ commented Ryoma in irritation. He leaned back and crossed his arms, looking around at his makeshift, messed up family.

"But Ochibi, we'd miss you!" Kikumaru leapt up, looking distressed. "And what if something bad happens?"

"Nothing's going to happen to him, didn't I already say that, Eiji-senpai?" assured Kevin.

"Eiji," said Oishi in a soothing voice, pulling his lover back into his seat, "You have to think of what Echizen wants. This is very important to him, remember?" Before turning to calm down the redhead next to him, he spoke sternly to Ryoma. "Be careful, okay?"

The boy nodded.

"There's an 87% chance that everything will go totally smoothly and Echizen will win. I say he goes." Inui looked up as he spoke, nodding at his underclassman. "You should bring my new juice with you, it'll-"

"What do you think, Kaidoh?" intercepted Oishi nervously.

The junior looked up at Ryoma. "Go run all over them."

"Well then, I guess we just need one more person's opinion," announced Fuji.

Tezuka nodded, glasses flashing. "Don't let your guard down, Echizen."

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><p><strong>All right people, put down the pitchforks (Kuro Neko Kyoko, I'm lookin' at you)! If it will help, Ryoma WILL get his voice back, but when Murasaki-sensei said it would take two months, he meant it!<strong>

**If you thought the ending was kinda rushed, well so did I, but I had absolutely no time this week. Live with it. Either way, it's decided now, Ryoma's going. Now, final announcement:**

_***IF YOU SKIP THIS I'M NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU NOT KNOWING WHAT I'M GONNA SAY!***_

**For the next two weeks, I'll be on Christmas Break. I won't be updating during that time *sob sob* but I'll be writing like hell so I can get ahead again. _NOT. A. HIATUS._ I hope you all have a good [regional holiday] and New Years (since most of you have New Years on Jan. 1) I'll see you all on January 6, 2012! **

**-Silver**


	20. The Pillar

**Hey guys! Everyone have a good Christmas/Hanukah/New Years/etc? It feels like it's been AGES. Sorry this is a little late, thought. This is a short little transitional chapter to get the new mini-arc started. Well, let's get going!**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Nineteen: The Pillar

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><p>Ryoma slung his bag over one shoulder and walked into the airport. All around him, people streamed in and out, back and forth. He snapped his gum and headed for the check-in desk. On one side of him walked Kevin. The blond was, like him, carrying a suitcase. Behind him, the regulars and Ryoga acted as an escort.<p>

The two freshmen walked to the desk, leaving the other eight behind. They checked their larger bags and confirmed their flight time before turning back and rejoining their team. The large group proceeded to just before the security checkpoint, beyond which only Kevin and Ryoma could go. Everyone crowded around the two smallest members of the team, smiling happily.

"We decided to make a tradition of it," said Oishi, rubbing the back of his head as he stepped forward. The teen held out a small box. "It's another good luck charm, like two years ago. There's also some herbal tea in there, for your throat."

"_Thank you, Oishi-senpai,"_ Ryoma said, accepting the box with a nod.

"Oh, oh, oh! Me next!" yelled Kikumaru eagerly, waving his arms in the air. "And it's not from the airport shop this time!" The redhead held out a canvas bag enthusiastically. "There's a CD of my favorite songs, some tennis magazines – there are, like, five million articles on you in there, Ochibi – a new wrist band, and a Ponta, nya! And the bag, too, I guess."

The feminine boy opposite him smirked and accepted the bag. He tossed the gift from Oishi inside and looked over the contents as he did so. Kikumaru hadn't been lying when he said that his gift hadn't been purchased in one of the airport's stores; there was some quality stuff in there.

Next, Inui stepped forward. In one outstretched hand, he held a sheaf of papers. "This is a rehabilitation plan for you, containing the best diet and training regime to get back in shape while dealing with your lingering injuries. All of it is designed specifically for your body type, current condition, and personality. Please, feel free to email me if you run into any difficulties."

"_Ah, I will._"

Kaidoh walked forward next, tossing a single unmarked tennis ball at Ryoma. "We're playing as soon as you get back."

Another nod. The boy knew that this was his upperclassman's form of a present.

Momo stepped up wearing a lopsided grin. "I didn't really know what to get you, but I still hope you like it!" He held out a small bag carrying their favorite tennis store's logo. "There's some new grip tape in there, and a gift certificate to this burger place in New York that I looked up that's supposed to be really good."

Ryoma smirked this time and replied, "_So senpai will be paying for me even when I'm in New York?"_

"Ah? You know I can't understand you yet! Oi, Fuji-senpai, what'd he say?"

The brunet translated, and while Momo was distracted, Ryoma snatched his gifts and put them in the larger bag. Before Momo could yell in protest, the boy gestured, saying "next" with his hand.

"Che. Brat," muttered the trickster.

Ryoga walked up to his little brother with a cheeky grin and thumped him lightly on the back. "Don't you dare start slacking just because I won't be there, got it Chibisuke? Put this to good use." The older Echizen tossed Ryoma a new high definition video camera. "Videotape anyone who's worthwhile and have their play style down before you even meet them, okay?"

Ryoma smiled slyly at his older brother. "_Like I'd need to."_

The older brother ruffled his younger counterpart's hair and took a step back. "Do it anyways, you cocky brat."

With an air of finality, Tezuka stepped forward. He handed a pad – almost identical to the one Ryoma had received two years prior – to the boy. Messages of encouragement and signatures covered the white surface. "Don't forget; you will always be our Pillar of Support."

Ryoma solemnly accepted the gift from his captain and slipped it into the bag. "_I won't disappoint you, Buchou."_

Tezuka nodded once. "Don't let your guard down, Echizen."

After a brief pause, Fuji spoke. "Sorry, everyone, but could I borrow Ryoma for a minute?" Without waiting for a response, the brunet grabbed his boyfriend's wrist and pulled him off. Stopping in a secluded corner, behind a pillar, Fuji opened his eyes and looked at Ryoma intensely. He wanted to drink in every detail of the boy before he was gone for over two weeks.

"I couldn't really think of anything to get you," he said. He leaned in and kissed Ryoma gently.

The boy shrugged, which Fuji understood to mean, "I don't care."

In between kisses, (which Fuji had begun to call desensitization, the perfect cure for Ryoma's fear of contact) the brunet continued to speak. "I'm still not happy about this… You'll be… careful over in America, right?"

The smaller teen pulled back for a moment and glared. Fuji laughed quietly. "Okay, okay. I get it." He leaned down again and pulled the boy into another kiss. "I'm going to miss you," he murmured. Ryoma nodded his head slightly in response, proof that Fuji had gotten his boyfriend to open up quite a bit in the past few days.

While in the middle of another kiss, a devilish idea snuck into Fuji's mind. He unlatched his lips from Ryoma's and moved them down to a spot half way down the boy's neck. Setting to work before the other teen could complain, he began to suck and nip at the patch of skin. After a minute, he pulled back to examine his work. A reddish-purple blotch was appearing on Ryoma's usually flawless skin. "Oh dear," he said, feigning concern. "That looks like it'll be there for days. Too bad it's higher than most collars can reach, ne?"

The brunet smirked as Ryoma's hand shot up to his neck. "_You perverted bastard!"_

By way of response, Fuji pulled his boyfriend into a hug and gave him a quick kiss. "Just making sure all the Americans know that you're taken. Don't let anyone else touch you, okay?"

Despite his derisive snort, Ryoma didn't resist the embrace. He was definitely not happy about the prominent hickey on his neck, but he didn't want to totally ruin his last few moments with Fuji.

They stood together for a moment, memorizing the feeling of being together, before Fuji stroked Ryoma's hair. "Everyone's waiting for us, I think."

The boy smirked and let his hair out of its ponytail to hide the hickey. "_Isn't that because you kidnapped me?"_

"I suppose so," laughed Fuji.

The two walked back over to their teammates, and Ryoma picked up his bags again. The more observant of those present noticed his change of hairstyle, but since most of them at least had an inkling of what had been going on between their two pretty-boys, they stayed silent.

"Ochibi! Make sure you get us lots of souvenirs over there!" yelled Kikumaru. He pounced on Ryoma as soon as the boy had rejoined their group.

After he had managed to pry the energetic acrobat off of him, Ryoma smiled. For once, it was not a mocking smirk, but instead a fond little twist of the lips. "_Gotcha."_

"Take care, Echizen! I don't want to see you until you have a few more thousand dollars and a giant trophy, got it?" teased Momo.

Ryoma smirked and shoved the trickster away playfully.

"Good luck over there." Oishi was smiling encouragingly as he spoke.

"You know," commented Ryoga suddenly, "I hate to interrupt all the heartfelt goodbyes, but your plane takes off soon, Chibisuke, Kevin."

The two freshmen glanced up at the nearest clock and seized up comically.

"Damn it!" yelled the blond, grabbing his backpack. At the same time, Ryoma had snatched up his tennis bag, biting out his own expletive. They had fifteen minutes before the plane would board, and they still had to go through security and buy food for the long plane ride.

Ryoga, looking extremely pleased at the panic that he had caused, yelled, "Keep an eye on Chibisuke!" by way of goodbye.

Ryoma looked like he dearly wanted to retort, but there wasn't time. Almost running, he and Kevin proceeded to the security checkpoint. As he passed Fuji, the boy was sure that he felt the senior lightly grab his hand.

"Take care, Ryoma."

The whispered words echoed in his mind, even as he was going through security. After passing through the metal detector and retrieving his things, Ryoma glanced back. His teammates still stood in the same spot, smiling and waving goodbye. He smirked. _Those idiots never change. _For just a second, he locked eyes with Fuji. Just as quickly, though, he looked away. _The next time I see those eyes, I'd better have a huge freaking trophy in my hands._

After that, he didn't look back.

He and Kevin decided to drop by a small coffee shop to grab water and snacks for the plane ride, because both knew better than to trust airline food. They raced through the airport's huge halls, and with no time to spare, arrived at their gate. Other passengers were already beginning to line up and board.

"Good, they're still getting first class on the plane," commented Kevin. At Ryoma's questioning look, he decided to elaborate (in his own way). "Nothing but the best for the prince, right?" he drawled jokingly.

"Tch." Leaving the conversation at that, the two waited in silence until it was their turn to get their tickets scanned. They boarded the plane, and as soon as they had sat down, Ryoma pulled out a tennis magazine and proceeded to block out the world.

Kevin, however, had been thinking about something for a few days and he wasn't letting his best friend off the hook like that. "So," he said, flicking Ryoma's head to get the boy's attention. "You and Fuji, huh?"

Immediately, Ryoma choked and looked at him with wide eyes. It was all the answer Kevin needed. "I'm not stupid," he laughed. At the same time, he flicked the hair off of his friend's neck. Just as he'd expected, a dark purple splotch occupied the space underneath Ryoma's jaw. Letting out a low whistle, he continued to tease his friend. "He got you _good_; that'll be there for _a_-ges."

The blond received a smack upside the head for his trouble. _Still worth it, _he thought.

Ryoma, who had covered the hickey again, made a series of quick hand gestures to say, "You will not tell anyone_."_

Still in a teasing mood, Kevin replied, "Why not? I don't care, they wouldn't care, Fuji wouldn't care…" At the sight of his friend tapping the tennis magazine pointedly, he continued. "Okay, well, the media might care, and your fans might care, and your manager might care, but what do they matter, right? And by the way, I still say you should learn sign language. It's only through our insane telepathy powers that I can understand you."

Kevin noticed that Ryoma was giving him "the glare," so he decided that now would be a pretty good time to stop. "Alright, alright, I'm just kidding with you. I won't tell, and you're too cool for sign language."

Ryoma held his glare for a few more seconds to serve as a warning then settled back into his chair. He was now in a thoroughly bad mood. Peroxide head had gotten him to think about his boyfriend, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. If he got too deep into the subject, it would take over his thought process and throw off his concentration. Due to the unfortunate way the past few weeks had played out, he'd been unable to concentrate on tennis. Of course he would miss Fuji, though he was loath to admit it, he already did, but he still absolutely had to win the US Open. For that to happen, he would need to shove aside any mushy, adolescent thoughts, and keep his mind solely on his favorite pastime. _So as soon as we get off the plane, peroxide head and I are going to play tennis, jet lag and stitches be damned._

A popping in his ears alerted him to the plane's takeoff. _It's not any use staying up thinking of useless things._ He shut his eyes blearily. It was late afternoon, anyways, which was the perfect time for a nap. The plane's rumble was soothing, and there was a chink of sunlight coming in through the window. Staying awake simply wasn't an option.

_Before long, he stood amongst thousands of nameless, faceless spectators. He was in a massive stadium, the same one he remembered from New York the last time he was at the US Open. Across the court from him stood a tall, muscular figure with his face cast into shadow. One glance at the scoreboard told him it was the final set, and the last point at that. _

_A vague, indistinguishable voice called out, "Match point!"_

_He smirked and bounced the ball in his hand against the court. He tossed the ball into the air and slammed his racquet into it with all his might. He didn't find it strange at all that he was able to shout along with the action. _

_The serve rocketed over the net and bounced sharply to the side. It was among the fiercest twist serves he'd ever been able to execute. His opponent was helpless against it and the ball bounced out of bounds before it could be returned. _

_As the referee announced his victory and the crowd burst into cheers, he gave his defeated opponent a trademark smirk. "Mada mada dane," he proclaimed imperiously. His voice, strong and proud once more, echoed on the court. _

_Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind with a gentle grip. "Congratulations, Ryo-chan," Fuji breathed into his ear._

_He decided to let go of his pride for just this once and respond genuinely. Lightly, he placed his hands on the brunet's forearms. He let his head fall back and rest on the firm chest. "Thanks."_

"_Not at all," replied Fuji. Ryoma felt the soft tickle of the teen's head nuzzling his neck. Somehow, it felt… nice._

_The stadium had disappeared at some point during the short exchange, leaving the two lovers by themselves. No longer did screams, cheers, and announcements echo through the dream world. Instead, the two stood alone on an unassuming tennis court surrounded by blooming sakuras and an early summer rain. _

"_Where are we?" asked the boy when he noticed the change in their surroundings. _

"_Where indeed…" sighed Fuji, burying his head deeper into Ryoma's shoulder. "You know, it really is great to hear your voice."_

"_Mm…" agreed the younger of them quietly. They stood peacefully on the court for what could've been days or seconds; there was no way to tell. Ryoma felt Fuji toying with his hair, and he himself was tracing lines absentmindedly on the teen's creamy skin. "Ne, Fuji-senpai?" he asked. "Can we stay here?"_

_The brunet seemed to find this amusing, and he began to laugh. "For how long?"_

"_Doesn't matter. A while, I guess," said the boy with a noncommittal shrug. _

"_Alright, then." _

_The couple stood silently again and savored their limited time together. Ryoma let his thoughts wander until they gradually drifted away altogether. He fell into a relaxed trance…_

With just a simple jolt of turbulence and a flutter of his eyelashes, Ryoma was dragged out of his dreams. He thought of what he'd just experienced, even if the memory was already beginning to fade slightly. _The stupid bastard's annoying even when he's miles away._

He looked out the window to see nothing but black all around. _We must be over the Pacific… And if it's already this dark out, it must've been hours since we took off, too. Did I seriously sleep that long?_

He must have, because next to him, even the hyper Kevin was snoring away. Glancing around the cabin, he saw that nearly all of the passengers were sound asleep. Seeing as there was nothing else to do and he wasn't even totally awake yet, following their lead looked like a good idea.

~X~

By the time Ryoma woke from his dreamless sleep, sunlight was streaming through the window once more. He sat up and rubbed his eyes blearily.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, so kind of you to join us," teased Kevin from the seat to his right. "I'll never know how you're able to sleep for so long."

Ryoma shrugged. He was still half asleep and therefore not in the mood to banter. "_Natural talent,"_ he muttered.

"Sure," said Kevin. "Well, Sleeping Beauty, we've got about an hour until landing. You actually managed to sleep for thirteen hours straight."

The boy nodded, since he could no longer grunt, and pulled out a tennis magazine and his iPod. He turned on his music and began to read. There were articles on the top players in the world (himself included), techniques, as well as major tournaments and matches that had occurred recently. There was coverage for the US Open, speculation, and predictions galore within the glossy pages, too. It was perfect to get his mind completely back on tennis.

Quicker than was seemingly possible, the famous skyscrapers of New York City came into view. The captain announced their descent into the metropolis, and they could soon see the blinking lights of John F. Kennedy International Airport.

As the buildings, lights, and web of roads drew ever closer, Ryoma thought back on his first Open two years ago, and of his teammates in Japan. He thought of Fuji and his family, and he thought of what the upcoming weeks would bring. Finally, he thought of his captain, and the words that had started him on his groundbreaking career. _That's right. I'll always be the Pillar of Seigaku._

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><p><strong>*Sniff, sniff* Ryoma's first hickey… I'M SO PROUD! Hope everyone liked the fluff, cuz you're not getting any more for a few weeks. As much as I love the Thrill, this isn't a total romance story. Then again… I've been thinking if I should take this out of the humor category. While I try to make it light and relatively funny, I really just don't know anymore. On the other hand, I don't know what else to put it under. Any opinions you'd like to share?<strong>

**Oh, one last thing. Ahem, hem.**

**KYAAAAAA! Did anyone else see NPoT episode 1? I almost nose-bled to death! For those of you who haven't seen it, go track it down! IT! WAS! AWESOME!**


	21. Meanwhile In America I

**IT'S… ALIIIVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEE!**

***…sniffle* FUUUUUUUUU-! *sob* I LOVE YOU GUYS! I can't even describe how happy I was to see all of your reviews encouraging me and saying that it was fine! To make up for my unforgivably long absence, this chapter's ****the longest EVAH (just over 6K). Oh, and remember, they're speaking English now! ONWARD!**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twenty: Meanwhile, In America

Part I

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><p>"So… ah! What do you- take <em>that!<em> Want to do next- gah!"

A yellow streak shot past him, and Kevin sighed. "45-15, you," he announced. Unfortunately, Ryoma's skills had not dulled as much as he thought they would have, and he was just barely managing to keep the game interesting for the both of them.

In response to his question, Ryoma just shrugged. It didn't really matter to him where they went and what they did. Even staying at this park all afternoon was fine. Even though a few passers by had stopped to stare at their game, it was peaceful here. How a city as immense and completely urban as New York could have such beautiful flecks of green never ceased to amaze him. He held up one finger and mimed a serve, saying he wanted to stay for one more point. The blond was decent at lip reading, but still not so good that Ryoma knew he could get his point across without gestures.

Kevin nodded. "How's all or nothing sound?"

The boy smirked and settled into the server's position. _This time… I'll definitely get it this time,_ thought Ryoma as he closed his eyes. He had been working on a new serve for the Open, though he didn't know if he would need it yet. At the very least, he could use it at the Kanto Tournament.

_Focus…_

His eyes snapped open, and he threw the tennis ball into the air. It seemed to move in slow motion as it began to fall back down to him, and he had no trouble striking it viciously with his racquet. Inside the split second of contact, he put one of the oddest spins he'd used yet onto the ball with a downward twist of his racquet's gut.

The serve shot towards Kevin with a cross in between heavy sidespin and topspin. It bounced, and shot in a circle around the surprised teen's ankles. After making another half-revolution, the ball spiraled out of the court. Kevin's jaw was dangerously close to the ground.

"Well. That's a new one," he commented once he regained the power of speech.

Ryoma smiled triumphantly and wiped his brow. _My game,_ he thought. That troublesome serve had been in the making for some time now, and the fact that he'd finally hit it perfectly was extremely rewarding.

"So, what'd you name it?" asked Kevin while he dabbed the sweat off of the back of his neck. Ryoma knelt next to him to put away his racquet, and he mouthed something in reply.

The blond, who had been watching carefully, thought for a moment before responding. "Well, since it looked like either "_Old Spruce Turf"_ or "_Corkscrew Serve," _I'm just going to have to go with the second one."

The silent boy smiled slightly and nodded. He tapped his temple, pointed his friend, and made a thumbs-up.

"Of course I like it! It's totally insane!" Energetically, Kevin threw his hands into the air and grinned. "You know what would be totally awesome? If you could get it to go around, like, five times before it flies off. But I guess you'd need hell of a lot of spin for that, wouldn't you… Either way, it's really cool! Seriously fun serve you thought up there."

Ryoma, looking amused at the bubbly American's antics, leaned back and sipped a Ponta as he watched the small crowd outside of their court disperse.

"Man, I can't wait to see the look on the poor sap's face when he sees you standing across from him tomorrow. So tragic, being eliminated in the first round," joked Kevin.

The Ponta addict raised an eyebrow, nothing more. Kevin _had_ brought up something mildly interesting, though. He had forgotten for a moment that the Open started tomorrow, but now it was in the front of his mind. The next week or so would be a good time to relax and rehabilitate a little before the battles started to heat up. He could also test his limits further than he had today with Kevin. Something told him Cyclone Smashes were out for the moment.

"Well," said Kevin, "Since the good policemen of New York might come after us if we filthy teens loiter too long, I suggest we scram." He picked up his bag and motioned for his introverted friend to follow him off the court.

Not caring where they went, Ryoma did so. The two walked aimlessly through the park for a few minutes, looking for somewhere to sit without being bothered. Eventually, they settled down under a tree by a small pond.

"So for tomorrow, it looks like you won't be having any problems. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Probably not even the day after that. Possibly the-"

Seeing that the blond was just listening to his own voice by now, Ryoma flicked him on the forehead. He shot Kevin a look saying "really?" out of the corner of his eye and leaned against the tree trunk with his eyes closed. "_Anyone interesting this year?" _he asked, speaking slowly so that Kevin could understand.

"Hm… Other than the usuals? Not really. None that would be any fun, anyways. Well, there's that Djokovic guy, he got really far last year, but he isn't really new. Then Federer, Nadal, Murray and a few others. You've beaten them all before, though, so this should be a ea~_sy_."

Ryoma traced the line where, under his bandages, the cut lay.

"Oh, that? Well, even though you're not very flexible with those things, you seemed fine earlier. If you can beat me, you'd better be able to win the Open," Kevin said confidently, flashing a grin. "You're stamina's probably not what it used to be, but you'll be able to build it up over the next few days. Same with your muscle strength. You won't be back to normal, that'll take forever, but it'll be enough to win the tournament."

Although he didn't look pleased at the word "enough," Ryoma didn't protest. It would take hell of a lot for him to lose _all_ of his strength - he had spent years building up those muscles, and they weren't going to disappear that easily- but at the same time, half a month sitting around would leave anyone weaker than usual.

"Oh yeah, and you probably figured this out yourself, but Cyclone Smashes are a no-no."

The dark haired boy waved his hand carelessly and closed his eyes.

Kevin sighed in resignation. "Right. No suggestions for the marvelous Ryoma-sama."

If Ryoma had been paying enough attention to have heard, he hid it well. He didn't stir at all, and stayed lazing against the tree with his eyes shut.

After a moment of silence, the musical beeps of Kevin's phone began playing cheerfully from inside of his pocket. Looking slightly surprised, (who would be calling him, after all?) the American answered.

"_Where in _hell's_ name have you two gone!"_

Kevin winced and pulled the phone away from his ear. _Damn near blew out my eardrum, that. _"Mr. Davis, look, you don't have to be so mad! We just went to the park for a little!"

"_A little! No one's heard from you since breakfast! Would it _kill_ you to leave a note? Or, even better, just stay put!"_

"Yes, I do believe it would. We're growing boys who need their exercise, you know."

"_Oh, I'm sure! You're professional athletes, you get plenty of exercise! I can't be spending your entire stay in the US chasing you all over New York City! And you know just as well as I do that Ryoma needs to be careful! Both of you, get back here _right _now!"_

"But we just got here!"

"_Don't give me that! If you're not back to the hotel in fifteen minutes, Justin and I are coming to find you!"_

Kevin shuddered. Justin was Ryoma's personal trainer for the occasional days that Ryoga was too busy to work with his little brother. The man was huge, a monumental testament to "American muscle." If they were caught by an angry Justin… It would be best to just throw Davis a bone. "Alright, alright. We'll be right back."

"_Thank-"_

"Right after we stop by the store."

"_No! Kevin, wa-"_

The blond boy hung up with a pointed tap. "Well," he said to Ryoma, "Just be glad you can't really talk on the phone anymore. It is saving you a lot of pain."

The troublemaker raised his eyebrows and pointed to the phone.

"Ah, right. The führer said we have to get back to the hotel. He okay'd a quick snack stop, though," explained Kevin with a cheeky grin.

Ryoma gave something between a snort and a "tch" and stood up. He slung his bag over one shoulder and began to walk off, knowing that his friend would follow.

The pair of tennis players walked confidently through the bustling streets of New York, knowing their destination by heart.

They reached the hotel well within their time limit, but instead of returning as they had been told, they turned to the small convenience store across the street.

Ryoma led the way into the shop and made a beeline for the ramen and Ponta. Kevin shot for the candy.

In less than a minute, the two had filled their arms with enough junk food to give Justin an aneurism.

Right as they stepped forward to pay, their eyes fell on a rack next to the cash register. Tucked away behind dozens of tabloids sat a few sports magazines. One in particular caught their attention. A large picture of Ryoma hitting a backhand with burning eyes and a slight smile dominated the cover. The caption read "_Samurai Junior; Number one in the world? The young shooting star's story!"_

Kevin and Ryoma smirked at each other.

"Just for the fun of it?" asked the blond with one hand reaching out slightly.

The Japanese boy shrugged. Kevin smiled and added the magazine to the pile of sweets, chips, and soda in his arms. "I think seeing what they think of you will be _hilarious._"

"_Who cares?"_

"I do!" replied Kevin indignantly. "And since I'm better than you, that means we're buying it and laughing at it as soon as we get home."

Ryoma sighed. There were so many sarcastic comments he could make in response to that that it was just too easy to be worth responding to. Peroxide head was going to buy it either way, and it would probably be amusing to read. Articles like that usually were.

Kevin stepped forward, handed the clerk his money, and began to help sweep their purchases into a bag. Just before he could finish, Ryoma snatched a Ponta for himself.

"Well someone's eager. Didn't you just have one?" Kevin said as he grabbed the bag and waved goodbye to the man at the counter.

"_Doesn't matter." _

Kevin laughed and walked across the street, swinging their bag of groceries carelessly. "You know, they're hosting this fancy-schmancy dinner party tonight for the major players, literally, figuratively, and monetarily, in the tournament. We going?"

Ryoma's face twisted in distaste. He definitely didn't want to go to some social night designed for the sponsors and administrators only. There would also be reporters there, without a doubt, and he was trying to keep the situation with his voice under wraps for as long as possible.

"Yeah, I don't really want to go either," drawled Kevin, "But it sounds like the kind of thing Mr. Davis will make us go to for appearance's sake and all that jazz. We'll just have to find a happy medium and be fashionably late due to him having to drag us out the door. And it's not like we're going to stay the whole time, so we might survive."

Despite Kevin's attempts to reassure Ryoma, the boy still wore a slight scowl as they headed into the hotel lobby and up the elevator to the top floor.

Once the two reached their room, they hesitated. Two pairs of eyes bored holes in the door, trying to measure the amount of danger hidden behind it.

"So… What do you think our chances of survival are?" Kevin was looking at the door as if it was made of pure poison.

Ryoma didn't bother to respond. All he could do was steel himself, grab the doorknob, and hope that when he opened the door, Mr. Davis wouldn't be there.

As if they would get that lucky.

"Well it's about time!" shouted Mr. Davis the second they stepped inside. "Everyone's been tearing their hair out looking for you!"

Both teens flinched slightly and took a step back. "Ah, so sorry about that…" Kevin called insincerely, running past the man into his room. Ryoma was right on his heels.

The blond slammed his door shut and locked it, wincing at the sound of Mr. Davis pounding on the door. "Young man, you open up this door _right now!_"

"Thanks Mom, but I'll pass!" Kevin yelled back through the door. He plopped down on the bed next to his friend, who had been leisurely munching on a piece of candy, and snatched up a bag of chips. "Look, I said I'm sorry!" he yelled when Mr. Davis didn't stop banging on the door.

"No, you're not! If you actually meant it when you said sorry, you'd have stopped wandering around ages ago! Why do insist on doing this to me?"

"Aw, now you're making up feel bad. Just get it into your head that you can't stop us and it'll cause you a lot less stress, okay?" Kevin was barely paying attention to what he was saying, a fact made clear by the mouthful of chips he was speaking around.

Ryoma's poor manager sounded about ready to wring the blond boy's neck by this point. "Oh, no, you're not getting off that easy. I'll assign Justin as your full-time babysitter if that's what it takes!"

For once, the man's threats had an effect on his two charges. They both shivered. "I assure you, Mr. Davis, such drastic measures are not necessary," said Kevin, thinking of the muscle-bound coach.

"And I assure _you_ that they are!" replied Mr. Davis. "Now, don't go running off again, unless you want me to go call Justin right now. You've got the welcome dinner at five thirty, and don't think you can get away with blowing it off. I'll be right downstairs talking to the sponsors."

They heard the sound of irate, stomping footsteps and the main door slamming. Kevin carefully opened the door, looked around, and sighed in relief. "He's gone…" The American collapsed back onto his bed. "Well that was interesting."

Ryoma nodded, flopping down next to his friend.

"So… do you want to read that magazine now?" asked Kevin, bouncing back from the scolding easily.

The dark haired teen opened his mouth slightly in surprise and looked at Kevin. Then, he smirked and nodded. "_Why not?"_ he mouthed.

"Awesome!" yelled the blond. He punched the air cheerfully and whipped the tennis magazine out of its bag. "Okay, let's see what we got here. Coverage on you, coverage on the Open, coverage on your opponents, and technique and history stuff. You're on page twenty-one." Kevin flicked through until he found a large picture of Ryoma, smiling confidently with his favorite red racquet slung over one shoulder. "Found it! Alright, let's see what the reporters of America think about you!" He cleared his throat and began to read.

"_Ryoma Echizen. It is a name known around the world as the greatest tennis player of our time, but some are unaware of the "Prince's" remarkable story. His father, Samurai Nanjiroh himself, trained Echizen since childhood. Every day, the two would play relentlessly for hours on end. Eventually, the future star reached a level above all others his age. Some years later, Echizen made his official debut into the tennis scene and won three consecutive American Junior National Championships. Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the Echizen family vanished. _

_In reality, they had returned to their original home of Japan. Nanjiroh Echizen entered his son into Seishun Middle School, commonly known in Japan as Seigaku, Nanjiroh's own alma mater. Ryoma joined the tennis club in anonymity and worked his way up into the ranks of the Seigaku regular squad. These eight young men, nine with the addition of Echizen, were considered the best of the best. Selected through a ranking tournament unique to their school, they were the most talented tennis players that the club had to offer. It was also this group that would represent Seigaku in official matches against other schools. Through various twists and turns, the team battled their way into the National Tournament, their long-time goal. Along the way, they faced some of the best teams in the country, all of which displayed a skill level beyond even most high school and college students. Echizen and his teammates were forced to improve, shooting above and beyond what was considered possible for middle school students."_

"Dude, how do they know all this?" asked Kevin, looking somewhat scared. "It's kinda creepy."

Ryoma shook his head and mouthed, "_Paparazzi."_

The blond nodded sagely. "They work in mysterious ways."

"_By this point, Echizen was at the level of top professional players. The US Open administration took note of this, and in the late summer of 2008, Echizen was invited to the tournament as a wild card. It was the start of a career that would shake the world. A dark horse in every way, Echizen took the tournament by storm. Despite being younger, smaller, and less experienced than his opponents," _Kevin had to stop to laugh at this point, whereas Ryoma looked about ready to run the magazine through a shredder, and then a furnace. "_Despite being younger, smaller, and less experienced than his opponents, Echizen defeated all in his path, including the number one seed in the world at the time, Australia's Lleyton Hewitt. After the shocking victory, the elusive teen disappeared to Japan once more. He helped in leading Seigaku to the national finals against the defending champions, Rikkai Academy. After a series of heated matches, and Echizen's stunning defeat of the undefeated "Child of God" Seiichi Yukimura, Seigaku stood as the best team in Japan. After this happy completion of his team's dream, though, Echizen returned to America again to train. After a summer there with his family, he continued in his globetrotting. He began to take on tournaments all over the world, in countries such as Germany, China, France, Russia, and Australia."_

_What was the full list again? _Ryoma wrote in a quick scrawl across the top of the page.

"Um…" said Kevin hesitantly, thinking hard, "The five that they had, plus Brazil, Italy, Egypt, Spain, Switzerland, Serbia, and Argentina. A lot of those were in between your Grand Slam last year, though."

The mute boy nodded and motioned for Kevin to continue.

"_The young star was now gaining worldwide renown, though it was still nothing in comparison with the shockwave produced when he reappeared in the Grand Slam tournaments. _

_After several months of participating exclusively in small tournaments, Echizen appeared and announced that he would take part in the "Big Four" that year, and that he would win them all. He made good of his promise and took the Australian Open's top spot that very month. For the next year, Echizen continued in his travels, participating in more minor tournaments between the Grand Slams. On top of all this and his training, he was also keeping up with his studies. These studies, besides the typical middle school curriculum, involved learning proficiency in the language of whatever country he happened to be in at the time."_

"Man, they're making you sound like some kind of superhero. Got to love how no one mentions all your naps, disappearances, and general laziness. And you barely speak Russian at all!"

_Your German sucks,_ wrote Ryoma.

"And so does your Portuguese!"

The two decided that these were fighting words, and they both began to mentally reel off which languages they could speak. Then, after debating (arguing) for a minute, Kevin spoke with an air of finality.

"Okay, this is going nowhere. We're both fluent in English, Japanese, and Spanish, and okay at German, Mandarin and French. Your German may by a _tiny_ bit better than mine, and so is your Mandarin, but I know Arabic and you don't. Plus my Russian and Portuguese can kick _your_ Russian and Portuguese's asses any day, so that makes me the winner."

Ryoma didn't respond to his friend's triumphant speech. _Just keep reading,_ he wrote.

Kevin deflated and complied.

"_After defeating the world's top players one after one in a stunning display, Ryoma Echizen stood on top of the world. With support from his family and friends, the prodigy blazed a path up to the number one spot. As it stands now, he has won two of each of the Grand Slam tournaments, (the Australian Open, the French Open, Wimbledon, and the US Open) as well as over a dozen minor tournaments. The reason why is clear: Echizen possesses incredible stamina, strength, and technique, and he is currently the second person to unlock the fabled "Pinnacle of Perfection," the first being his own father. This is a trance-like state that enhances both his physical abilities and his technique past ordinary human limits. Also in his repertoire are a series of seemingly impossible shots created by Echizen himself. Truly, he has earned the title of "strongest." _

_Despite his incredible success, though, just after his most recent victory at Wimbledon, Echizen announced that he would be leaving the professional circuit for an indefinite amount of time. The world was sent into confusion, and amidst it all, Ryoma Echizen vanished. Without telling anyone or leaving a trace, he returned home to Japan again. Now, he is participating with Seigaku's sister high school and his teammates from middle school in the Japanese National High School Tournament. He has only been seen by the press a handful of times, though, so there are still no clues as to his motivation. One thing is for sure, though: Ryoma Echizen is going strong, and now the world waits for his next move with baited breath!"_

"Hm… It was pretty much a mini-biography on you, so not very funny. I'd give it an eight for accuracy and a three for hilarity," said Kevin in review.

Ryoma shrugged noncommittally. _Wasn't very interesting,_ he scrawled on the corner of the magazine's page.

"True that. But does having your life story floating around like this ever bug you?"

_Not really. _

"Eh… You're no fun…" sighed the blond. He fell over onto the bed again and shoved more candy into his mouth. "So… We've got a little over two hours before the welcome dinner… what do you want to do?"

By way of response, Ryoma grabbed the remote, turned on the television, and kicked back lazily. It was clear that he would be asleep within a minute.

"I rest my case." Kevin listened as his friend's breathing slowed and leveled out over the next few minutes. Sure enough, when he next looked over from the TV, Ryoma was sound asleep. He continued to flick through the channels, trying to find something worth watching. Settling for a cartoon he remembered seeing when he was a child, he sank down into his pillows. He looked over at his sleeping friend one more time. _Eh. I'll get him up… later…_ he thought, moments before sinking into sleep.

"Both of you get up _now!_"

Two teenage boys bolted upright in bed, one of them shouting incoherently. Surrounded by a shifting black aura, Matthew Davis stood over them. "Do you know what time it is?" asked the man through gritted teeth.

Instead of responding, the two blinked blearily and fell back into bed. Ryoma pulled a pillow over his head, and Kevin rolled onto his stomach. "Nap time," came the blond's muffled voice.

"I don't think so," said the manager. He grabbed both of his charges by their shirts and hauled them up. "The dinner starts in _ten minutes! _Get ready, now! I don't want to see either of you in tennis clothes when you get back, got it? This is a formal event!"

Reluctantly, the two walked off to get changed. Ryoma began digging through his suitcase to see if he'd even _brought _nice clothing. Eventually, he stumbled on a white dress shirt and slacks, actually part of his school uniform. Kevin seemed to have thought along the same lines while packing, as he had discovered the same outfit in the depths of his bag. They threw the clothes on and made a halfhearted attempt at taming their hair (though Ryoma gave up quickly and just pulled his back) and walked out into the main room.

Inside, Mr. Davis stood with an impatient look on his face. When he saw that the only difference in outfit between the two was Kevin's loose tie, he sighed. "You two… Alright, let's go. There's a taxi waiting outside."

They made their way downstairs and, true to the manager's word, found a bright yellow cab waiting for them on the curb. Ryoma hopped in first, leaving Kevin to shut the door. Mr. Davis gave the driver directions, also asking if the driver could get them there as quickly as possible, and they departed from their hotel.

Golden eyes studied the familiar lights of New York City as they wound their way through lanes of traffic. Though sometimes all the noise and people could get irritating, Ryoma truly liked this city. It was lively, competitive, big, and full of challenges. All in all, it had a great feel to it.

Slowly, he felt his eyes glazing over. It was probably because he never had a chance to wake up properly, that is to say, very slowly and with a can of Ponta. The muscles in his body were relaxing, and his vision was blurring.

"Oi, sleepyhead, don't fall asleep. I don't feel like dragging you into the party," said Kevin with a shove. "Just hang on for a little bit, we're almost there, and then we can get some food."

The American's words were effective, for at the word "food," Ryoma perked up, if only slightly. He managed to keep himself awake for the rest of the ride, and soon spotted the hotel's glowing sign.

The car pulled to a stop, Mr. Davis handed the driver a few bills, and the trio made their way towards the front doors. Ryoma was the first to step inside, and he immediately began to look around appraisingly. The place was upscale, even for New York, and had a warm, pleasant atmosphere. He could hear faint music and the soft murmur of distant chatter echoing through the lobby.

Pointing one slender finger in the direction that the noise was coming from, Ryoma turned to the other two. "_Over there?" _he asked.

"Looks like it," Kevin responded, carelessly lacing his fingers behind his head. The two freshmen began walking, knowing that Mr. Davis would be on their heels and watching like a hawk. The trio was able to walk quietly for roughly five seconds before the blond teen felt the need to fill the silence with conversation. "So," he began, "You ready for your epic reappearance, Ryoma?" It was an understatement to say that he was looking forward to seeing their competition's faces at the return of the five-foot terror.

Instead of responding, the boy smirked with an excited gleam in his eyes.

The music grew steadily louder, as did the sounds of laughter and chatter, and soon Kevin and Ryoma could feel their stomachs growling at the smell of food. Before long, the noise reached its peak, and the three came upon a large set of double doors through which they could see large crowds of well-dressed adults.

Kevin grinned impishly and rubbed his hands together. "Awesome, we're here! Let's go take all their food!" Leaving it at that, the boy charged into the ballroom in search of the buffet table.

Ryoma followed right away, albeit at a far more dignified pace. A murmur swept through the crowd around him as people recognized the tiny figure dodging through them. He knew word would spread quickly and soon, the entire assembly would learn of his arrival. Ignoring this, he wove between the different people, following the bright gold of his friend's hair. He could smell the delicious scent of his dinner, and he'd be damned if a bunch of suits and sponsors kept him from it.

When he caught up to Kevin, the boy was already in the process of piling his plate high with food halfway down the buffet table. Ryoma began to shovel copious amounts of food onto his plate. Once the two were satisfied with their respective piles, they took off together to find an obscure corner of the room to sit in and eat.

Eventually, they settled down in a row of chairs along the wall and began to dig in. When they took short breaks to breathe, they would glance around the room. A slideshow with various shots from last year's Open was playing in the front of the room, showing both posed pictures of athletes, managers, trainers and the like, and action shots from the matches themselves. Many pictures featured Ryoma's matches.

Occasionally, Kevin would point and laugh at a snapshot, reminiscing, but most of the next twenty minutes was taken up by the sounds of silverware on plates.

A few minutes after they finished eating, the slideshow began showing pictures from the finals last year. Shortly afterward, a picture of Ryoma holding his trophy wrapped the presentation up.

Right on cue, a portly man in a neat suit stepped up. Ryoma vaguely recognized him as one of the major supporters and organizers of the tournament. He began to give stereotypical opening remarks, welcoming, thanking, and congratulating people.

It took less than a minute for the two active teens to stop listening. Instead, they began to sort through the crowd. Some major competitors could be seen, formidable men like Nadal, Federer, and Djokovic. A few new faces could be seen that showed promise, Kevin and Ryoma could see it in their confident bearing and burning eyes, and a few veterans who were experienced but not major threats. A few were overlooked, such as the anxious newcomers, arrogant players, and veterans who had yet to show promise.

Once applause began to sweep through the room, the two young stars stopped their appraisal and began to clap politely, pretending to have listened. The man stepped off the stage with a big smile and waving arms, and a new movement began to take place in the ballroom. A few dozen men and women in the simple black and white clothing of servers streamed in and began to move tables and chairs from the center of the room, making way for their coworkers to set a dance floor. In the back, a smaller group began to unveil trays of desserts.

Immediately focusing on the latter change, Ryoma and Kevin stood as one and made a beeline for the sweets. Within a minute, they had returned to their spot with large plates of cake. After that, the only thing left to do was eat and watch as the adults got more and more intoxicated.

Kevin, who was having a laugh at all the "totally hammered snobs," didn't notice his companion's yawning. In the end, it took Ryoma's almost nodding off for the blond to remember- the eternally sleepy pro had always been the more susceptible to jet lag between the two of them.

"Oi," he said, flicking Ryoma in the forehead. "All the grown-ups are way far gone and you look dead. Want to go?"

The boy, who had returned to his senses at the physical contact, nodded, yawned, and stretched. He stood up and jerked his head at the door, meaning, "Let's go."

They drifted out with no fanfare, not bothering to tell their manager where they were going. He knew where to find them.

Kevin was in no mood to wake Ryoma up and get him out of a cab (or worse, carry him inside) so he decided for them that they would walk back. Their hotel wasn't far, so it wouldn't make too much of a difference.

They strode confidently through the streets, enjoying the different scenery. Something about the noise, smells, and general organized chaos of the Big Apple gave off an energetic feel that Tokyo lacked. It was, after all, the city that never sleeps.

Ryoma and Kevin quickly wove through the flow of people that lingered on he sidewalk, and they soon reached their hotel. The two tired boys sighed quietly as they walked into the room filled with warm air. The fact that they were back to their (temporary) home was relaxing both of them, and both were making plans to fall into bed as quickly as possible.

Ryoma rubbed his eyes, catlike, and yawned as he walked into the elevator. Knowing that the short teen would probably push the wrong button in that state, Kevin did it for him. They glided up in silence, struggling not to fall over, and after a minute emerged onto their floor.

Ryoma's eyelids were fluttering again, so Kevin was once again forced to take control. The blond grabbed their key from his friends' hand and swiped it through the slot on the door, eliciting a cheerful beep.

The two stumbled inside, shedding their coats in any place that was convenient. Each headed straight for their bags, pulled out pajamas, and began to change. Neither bothered going into another room to switch outfits, their sudden exhaustion being just that strong. _I guess we spent more time at the tennis courts than we thought… _thought Ryoma sleepily.

Kevin flicked out the lights, and Ryoma heard the sound of him flopping onto one of the two queen sized beds in the room. The boy followed suit, jumping backwards onto his own soft, plushy comforter.

Just before he let himself drift into sleep's embrace, Ryoma checked his phone to make sure his alarm was on for tomorrow morning (though it would probably do no good). On the screen, he noticed that he had received a text from Fuji.

_Good luck "today." _

It was a simple, encouraging message, but the teenager could see the dry humor in Fuji's reference to the time change. He smiled.

_It's really starting tomorrow… _he thought, quickly losing coherency. _Should be fun…_

* * *

><p><strong>Who else feels really bad for Mr. Davis? The poor, poor soul. <strong>

**Hahaha I went back and read the first few chapters of HWGA, and I was like "Oh God why…" Well, it wasn't too bad, but the writing was kinda different and there were a few things I did that looked unprofessional (cause this is sooo damn pro). Might be going back and making minor changes, who knows.**

**BTDubs, you all owe Self a big thank you, because without him kicking my ass into gear (by all means necessary, might I add) God knows when this chapter would have been finished. Big English project sucked up all my time…**

**This is for all you KevRyo fans (which apparently includes my own beta Self, who said, "I know it's Thrill Pair but where's my KevRyo fanservice") I know that was a perfect opportunity and sorry if I disappointed you, but what did you want me to do that was still reasonable? Respect da bromance.**

**Remember, I love you all (reviews are good too, I do like reviews... hint hint XD)!**


	22. Meanwhile In Japan I

**I'M SO-O-RRYYYYYYY! I really hate myself right now!**

**Little known fact: When you break your thumb, production is slowed down considerably. Especially when you fall out of your writing groove. Can we go back to 2011, when I actually updated on time? Although, if you're reading this any amount of time after it was published, that was all irrelevant!**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twenty-One: Meanwhile, In Japan

Part I

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><p>The sun beat down on him, contrasting with the morning chill and his cool sweat. A gentle wind was tousling his hair around, and a pleasant burn lingered in his muscles from morning practice.<p>

"Okay guys, good work today!" echoed Ryoga's voice across the courts. "The Kanto Tournament starts tomorrow, so there won't be any afternoon practice, got it? Now go get your asses to class!" yelled the man from his spot by the courts' main entrance.

A few members, Fuji included, laughed at their coach's speech. Though Ryoma's brother commanded respect, and indeed a little awe, he was very different from Ryuzaki-sensei. His workouts were harsh, difficult, and helpful, but there was a much hazier line between coach, friend, and instructive older brother with him. The maternal concern was nowhere to be seen, though. Still, Fuji didn't consider the change a bad one at all.

The brunet walked languidly to the clubroom, wiping sweat off the back of his neck as he went. The second he stepped inside the cramped space, the scent of sweat and a wave of rowdy conversation assaulted his senses. Fuji wove through the wall of testosterone, carefully heading towards his locker.

He changed into his suit-like school uniform, making sure to knot his tie carefully. Once he looked presentable, the brunet grabbed his bag and walked out.

The sweet, crisp breeze brushed against Fuji's face again, and his smile widened slightly. "There's a good wind today," he said to himself quietly.

On his way into the main building, he met up with Tezuka, and the two seniors went up to their first class together: AP History.

Fuji wasn't feeling in the mood for silence that day, and so he decided to strike up a conversation with his friend. "Has the match order for tomorrow been decided on yet?" he asked innocently.

The stoic captain shook his head before offering a reply. "We have an idea, but Ryoga-sensei and I are meeting after school to finalize everything."

The genius nodded thoughtfully. Though his team was skilled and experienced enough to tear though the first few rounds of the tournament, all of their competition had been improving along with them. By the time they hit the Kanto Tournament, the Regulars would usually start running into create a fitting lineup for their first opponent, Josei Shonan, it would be best to think things through slowly and study Seishun's previous matches with them. Josei was a tricky opponent, and not to be underestimated. _We can handle them, though._

He leaned back in his seat, thinking of the upcoming match. Hopefully it would all go smoothly and they would advance to the quarterfinals without difficulty. In all honesty, there was no reason to think that things would turn out otherwise. Even with only seven of their eight Regulars present, they would be fine.

He sat up again and began to feign interest as their teacher stepped into the room. It was Fuji's custom to leave one ear open during class and pick up the important points, but give most of his attention to daydreams. He was at the top of his class like this, so he saw no need to change his ways.

The first few periods passed in such a way, as they always did. Soon, he found himself leaving his last morning class, headed for lunch.

At his locker, though, something held him up. That something took the form of a small redhead from his music class. The petite girl was standing with her hands clasped behind her back and her head down. He could see a faint pink blush on her cheeks, and her feet were shuffling nervously. It was, unfortunately, a posture that he recognized.

"Is there something I can help you with, Honoka-san?" Fuji knew what she wanted to say, and he knew his response, but that wasn't an excuse for being rude.

"Well, Fuji-san…" began the girl slowly, "You see, the truth is, I've like you for a while now and was wondering if you'd like to go to the movies this weekend."

The brunet felt bad – it had obviously taken Honoka quite a bit of nerve to come out with this – but there was no way he could ever accept. A face with a taunting smirk, glinting cat-eyes, and shining green hair flashed through his mind. His passive smile turned bittersweet.

"I wish I could tell you otherwise, but there's someone else I'm involved with. You're very brave and sweet, though, and I'm flattered by your feelings. I wish you the best of luck in finding someone better than myself, Honoka-san," he replied, doing his best to reconcile her without seeming patronizing.

"Oh… o-okay… I understand, then. Good luck with her," said the little carrot-top with wide, sad eyes and a shaky smile. "Thanks for listening," she managed to blurt out before turning on her heel and bolting.

Fuji sighed and turned in the opposite direction, shutting his locker as he did so. He could already feel Honoka's friends glaring daggers into his back. _It's not like I could've done anything else,_ he thought as he headed towards the cafeteria. The sound of several hundred teenagers talking and eating could be already heard, and he could smell the food from here.

When Fuji finally reached the spacious room, it was already packed with students. He scanned over the sea of noise, looking for the loudest spots. His teammates would, without fail, be at the epicenter of one such place.

The tennis club was always easy to find, thanks to its members' nature. Today, for instance, he could hear a particularly obscene shouting match taking place between their two juniors. He drifted through the crowded lunchroom towards the source of the shouting and cursing. Without a doubt, the team would be there.

What he wasn't expecting was to have to stop short of the table. Yes, his friends were sitting there, and yes, Momo and Kaidoh were arguing, but once again, a redhead was in his way. Kikumaru was sprawled on the ground in front of the seat he was intending to take, out cold. Judging by the bluish color to the teen's face and the odd liquid splattered on the ground, Fuji guessed that Inui was the cause.

He laughed quietly and grabbed his friend under the arms, picking him up and dragging him onto the bench. A concerned looking Oishi accepted the unconscious teen with a relieved "thanks."

"So, what invoked Inui's wrath this time?" he inquired jokingly. While Oishi started to explain, (something about Kikumaru doubting his data and then proceeding to irritate him with his destructive antics) Fuji started digging in to his bento. He found that the cafeteria food here wasn't suited to his… specific tastes.

A few minutes later, Kikumaru woke up again, in desperate need of water, and Tezuka returned from speaking to one of his teachers. His arrival brought order to the table, and Fuji was able to eat in peace. _Even if the quiet is fear-induced,_ he thought happily.

The rest of their lunch passed uneventfully, and towards the end, Fuji found time to simply relax and chat.

"But man, did you see him?" yelled Momo with a rowdy laugh. "The kid was killing it out there! At this rate, the title's his!"

Oishi smiled as Kikumaru jumped on him, voicing his agreement. "That's right, nya! Ochibi was so awesome in the preliminaries!"

"It's certainly true that he's struggled more with matches during his time in Japan," commented Inui, "But those were only the preliminaries, and his muscles atrophied during his time in the hospital. There are still quite a few rounds left in the tournament." The data-tennis player snapped his book shut summarily.

"The last few rounds will certainly be interesting," remarked the brunet. "To see some of the best players in the world struggle against a teenager…" He laughed softly at the mental image, hand on his chin.

"Let's all cheer him on and hope for the best," said Oishi with a smile.

"And hope the brat doesn't traumatize anyone," sniggered Momo. A few of the teens around the table found this amusing, mainly because it was true.

Amidst the happy chatter and laughs, a shrill ringing sound filled the cafeteria. In well-practiced motions, the student body of Seishun rose from their seats and grabbed their things, not pausing in their conversations for a second. The loud mass of teenagers streamed out of the room and began making their way towards their next class. Fuji was no exception, and he found himself simply moving with the flow on his way to English in no time.

When he stepped into class, his only period of the day without any of his teammates in it, the brunet settled down quietly in his seat by the window. The lecture eventually started, and Fuji dimly realized that it wasn't anything he really needed to pay attention to. That realization was all it took for him to go on autopilot. While he absentmindedly wrote down a few notes, he let his thoughts wander down whatever path they wanted.

For the next three hours, Fuji moved through his classes by rote. He didn't really _dislike_ school, per se; he just found it a bit monotonous. Going through almost the exact same thing every day was bound to make one think that.

After the final bell rang, the brunet took his time packing up. He drifted from the classroom to his locker with a lazy ease that he usually couldn't afford, thanks to afternoon practice. _I can finally have some time to myself this afternoon, too… _

He grabbed his bag and, throwing it over one shoulder, walked languidly down to the school's exit. On his way out, the brunet ran into Kikumaru and Oishi, who apparently had shared his sentiments on taking their time while leaving. The three friends walked back to their dorm together, and Fuji took full advantage of the extra time to snap some pictures along the way.

"Ne, ne, Fujiko!" yelled Kikumaru, latching onto his friend. "Did Tezuka tell you the match order for tomorrow, nya?"

The slim teen stumbled slightly before steadying himself and continuing to walk with an indulgent smile. "No, not yet. He and Ryoga-kun are probably discussing it now, though. They want a solid lineup to face a tricky opponent like Josei Shonan. We'll probably hear it tomorrow."

"Mou, but I want to know now!" pouted the redhead. "Ne, Oishi! Do you think we'll be facing that weird pair again?"

"Maybe," replied the vice-captain placidly. "We played the twins two years ago, though, so there's a chance that'll happen again."

"Hm… I hope so; last year I heard they were getting really close to Synchro! They've probably got it by now." With that, the acrobat jumped down from his perch and over to his boyfriend, joining their hands in one fluid motion.

"Ah, we're here," observed Fuji. The large building that was their home had come before them, looking as grand and welcoming as ever. The three stepped inside and kicked off their shoes, and were immediately drawn to the sound of yelling, taunting, and playful bickering coming from the foyer.

Predictably, their roommates had decided to host an impromptu gaming tournament in their newfound spare time. As Kikumaru let out a surprised yell of delight and jumped right into the fray, Fuji realized he wouldn't be able to find any peace were he to stay here.

He slipped away from the crowd and quietly made his way upstairs. It was with a relieved sigh that he shut the door to Tezuka's Quiet Room. The soft click brought with it a cozy wave of silence, and Fuji was able to relax in the room's soothing warmth. He walked over to one of the bookshelves, selecting a novel that he had dog-eared some time ago, intending finish the story eventually. _And now's the perfect time_, he thought, settling down in an armchair that lay in a warm pool of sunlight.

The brunet's eyes opened to half-mast as he read a particularly thrilling part of the story, though his cheery little smile remained in place.

Fuji continued to read, lazily flicking through page after page. It was only after the book had come to a bittersweet end and the sun had begun to dye his hair red with its rays that he placed it on the table next to him. It had been a good story, a captivating tale about the human psyche, the blurry line of right versus wrong, and love. The last theme, which wouldn't have concerned him beyond mild curiosity at this time last year, was holding his attention surprisingly well at the moment.

Yes, although it seemed strange, Fuji had discovered that the center of his attention was currently Ryoma. To think that all these years, he had believed authors to be exaggerating when they wrote of lovesick characters who couldn't draw their thoughts away from their significant other.

If anything though, they hadn't exaggerated enough. Maybe it was just because the boy was injured and thousands of miles away, but Fuji couldn't keep himself from thinking of, or more commonly worrying for, the tennis star.

_But it can't be helped. The only thing I can do is to believe that he's strong enough and hope he comes home soon… How irritating. _Laughing quietly at his foolish thoughts, the genius rose and went to place the book back on its shelf. Judging by the light and the fact that they had a long day ahead of them, he guessed that they would be having dinner soon.

He guessed correctly. When he came down into the foyer, he saw only Momo and Kaidoh (the hopeless ones in all things culinary) still going at it. On the other hand, a clatter and delicious smell was drifting in from the kitchen, signaling that Kikumaru was at work.

Without disturbing the two juniors, Fuji headed that way. In the kitchen, the tantalizing smell of noodles and stir-fry permeated the air. Their team's resident chef stood by the stove, chatting with Oishi while he moved a wok around vigorously, letting a mass of ingredients fly up into the air.

The small brunet automatically began to bring out bowls, plates, and chopsticks for that night's meal. Once everything had been laid out neatly to make plating easier on Kikumaru, he sat down next to Oishi with a glass of water and a roll of wasabi sushi. He plopped the latter into his mouth, savoring the pleasant tingle that was a searing burn to everyone else.

Within minutes, Kikumaru had dished out portions of chicken and vegetables onto everyone's plate, with a generous heap of noodles in the bowls usually used for rice. The redhead called all the house's inhabitants to the table, and with a mockingly stern warning to "eat up all the noodles, 'cause you need the carbs for tomorrow," the dysfunctional little family dug in.

At one point during the noise that was dinnertime in dorm T-V-01, Fuji heard Momo asking Tezuka about the match order.

"Is it all set?" inquired the trickster through a mouthful of food.

"Aa. It'll be announced by Ryoga-san before registration tomorrow."

Fuji smiled, excited to find out who he would get to play. He had been a reserve player once this year already, so he would definitely be included in tomorrow's lineup. Josei Shonan was a consistently interesting opponent, what with the unorthodox coaching that carried over even into their high school.

By the time most of the plates had been cleared, Fuji was beginning to feel the fatigue of the day nagging at him. Knowing that he still needed to take a shower and prepare for tomorrow, the brunet excused himself.

Twenty minutes later, he turned off the soothing flow of hot water and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. After toweling off quickly and slipping into his pajamas, Fuji brushed his teeth and went back into the bedroom. The spacious, comfortable room seemed to glow slightly in the moonlight, and as his eyes fell on the large, untouched bed in the corner, a wave of eerie loneliness swept over him. This room truly wasn't the same without its original inhabitant.

Feeling oddly and uncharacteristically gloomy, the teenager decided to try something a bit... unusual. Grabbing his phone and his favorite pillow, he padded across the floor to his absent roommate's bed. The brunet knelt down and slid under the midnight blue covers and silvery sheets. Predictably, they smelled like Ryoma. He wondered how the boy was doing. Ever since his departure, Fuji had only seen his matches and small clips of him from the few public events that he chose to attend, and it wasn't enough. He wanted his Ryo-chan back, and he didn't want to wait.

With a quiet, grumpy huff, he buried his face in the soft pillows below him. Just as he was about to close his eyes and make an attempt at sleeping, though, a buzzing accompanied by a bright light came from beside him. Picking up the disturbance's source, his phone, he smiled at what he saw.

_You'd better win._

_-ER_

Well, maybe he could wait a little longer.

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><p><strong>Despite my various issues with writing this chapter (and I ran into every one in the book, mind you) I'm back. Thank freaking god. The update day has been moved to today, too, for the sake of Self's convenience and my own. <strong>

**Oh, and guess what? I am now the proud, vicious, and clinically insane beta to SwallowTailSoul4evr and her new story, Whispers of the Past, in the KHR fandom. Check it out, will ya?**

**Oh yeah, and it was Fuji's EXTREMELY rare birthday a few weeks ago, on 2/29/12. Congrats, dude, you're four.**


	23. Meanwhile In America II

**BAHHHHHHHH! IT'S A DAY LATE! Sooo pissed at myself. It was totally my fault, too. I didn't get the chapter to Self in time for him to beta it... I absolutely won't allow myself more than a day late, though. I've gotten bad enough already... Well, thank you for bearing with it. Since I've got no shame anymore, R&R!**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twenty-Two: Meanwhile, In America

Part II

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><p>"Oi, you listening?"<p>

Ryoma flinched and opened his eyes with a start. Once again, the first thing he saw was Kevin, in his face. Again. He irately swept aside the hand that had flicked him in the forehead. "_What?_"

"Get your lazy ass up, the match is almost over!" yelled Kevin, drawing amused glances from the rest of the room. Apparently, the contestants of the US Open thought that seeing the champion getting bossed around like a disobedient child was hilarious.

Kevin and Ryoma were sitting inside the waiting area that doubled as a locker room, waiting for the prince'sturn to play. If (or in all probability, when) he won this match, he would advance to the quarterfinals. Ryoma expected it to be good exercise at least; anyone who could make it this far was either skilled or extremely lucky. As far as he knew, his opponent was more or less average. Relatively new to the professional circuits, and having seen varying success, the French man wouldn't be hard to take down.

"_Winner?_" asked the boy with a bleary rub of his eyes.

"I don't know his name, but I'm almost positive that it'll be the guy in blue," replied the blond through gritted teeth, digging his heels into the ground as he tried to drag his sleepy friend to his feet. "Get… up!" he yelled with a final heave.

Now on his feet and without any chance of getting more sleep, Ryoma shot Kevin a disparaging glance before putting his headphones in and blocking out the world.

"Diva," muttered Kevin. With that, he wandered off, probably looking for the television where the current match would be playing.

For his part, Ryoma shuffled over to where he had left his bag and began looking through it, taking out his water bottle, towel, and racquets. To kill time, he began checking the guts on all three. He began tugging on the strings in methodic, practiced motions, making sure the tension was correct everywhere.

Unlike his first US Open, he was able to prepare for his match in peace. His face was well known, as was the fact that he wasn't just some brat. Now, everyone knew that he was a very talented brat. People gave him a wide, respectful berth.

"Ca-lled it!" The drawn out, yell managed to pierce through his music, as Kevin's voice always did. The American teen had strolled back over to his friend, with a grin splitting his face in two. "The guy in blue won. Either way, they're taking a sec' to clean up the courts, and then you're up. Everyone's getting all excited about it, too." Noticing that his friend had stopped listening, Kevin gave a long-suffering sigh and reached forward to rip out the boy's headphones. "That means get ready… like, now."

True to Kevin's word, a tournament official appeared, announcing, "Mr. Ryoma Echizen! You're up next!"

"Get going, you punk!" shouted the blond freshman, shoving Ryoma's tennis racquet into his chest and giving the small teen's back a shove towards the door.

The boy made sure to send a withering glare over his shoulder as he walked out. In the tunnel between the waiting room and the courts, the official smiled at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Echizen. Good luck today."

Ryoma nodded in recognition, squeezed the gut of his racquet one last time, and stepped into the stadium.

The sound hit him like a brick wall, as it always did. Accompanying it was the sudden blinding light of the midday sun and dozens of cameras. The cheers, some of which he could distinguish as his name, roared in his ears. He ignored it all, as he always did.

Without giving any signs of being affected by the new atmosphere, he set his towel and water bottle down on the bench. The quiet whistling sound of his deep breaths were all that he paid attention to, centering himself and focusing on tennis alone. In a familiar ritual, he began to bounce on the spot with his eyes closed, shaking and rolling his shoulders. Not once did he let his steady breaths hitch.

When his eyes opened again, he felt a razor-sharp clarity in his mind and a pliant strength coursing through his body. Preparations complete.

The young pro tightened his grip on his racquet and stepped out onto the court, meeting that day's opponent at the center of the net.

The roaring crowd quieted slightly, but it was enough for Ryoma to hear the official announcing the match. In the midst of all the formalities that he heard nearly every day, he was able to catch his competitor's name: Quentin Reyer.

In accordance with almost every match he'd ever played, the man was taller than him by several inches. His auburn hair was cut short, and his bright blue eyes bored into the teenager from across the net. They were cold as ice.

Ryoma dearly wished that he could start a little pre-game taunting, and he could speak some French to do so, but it was unfortunately out of the question. Instead, he arched one eyebrow sarcastically at Quentin's open appraisal. The only reaction he got was a slightly more intense glare. _Well, it's better than nothing. _

The referee called for them to shake hands, and Ryoma snapped out of his thoughts. He extended his left hand, seeing as he planned to play right handed today, and the Frenchman mirrored the action. The younger player took note of the unnecessarily firm grip. This could be an interesting day yet, it seemed.

It was already determined that Reyer would have the first serve, so Ryoma slipped into the receiver's position automatically. His eyes scanned for any irregularities in Reyer's stance that would indicate a special serve.

There were none. The first serve of the match had no special spin or technique; its only purpose was to test how fast a ball had to be to pressure Samurai Junior.

Ryoma returned it easily, making sure to keep his chest muscles loose. The rally dragged on like that, each player getting warmed up and feeling out the other. _This guy's not as cocky as the others,_ he decided. _He's not just rushing in. _

A deep ground shot to the side of the court made Reyer fumble at last, hitting a lob. Ryoma leapt into the air with one arm drawn back for a basic smash. It really was a pity he couldn't use the Cyclone Smash while his chest was still healing.

Two bangs resounded through the stadium. One was from the ball's impact with his racquet, and the other was the ball slamming down on the court.

"Point, Echizen! Love - 15!"

~X~

There was a pleasant burn coursing through Ryoma's body. He had just won the fourth of five sets, and had lost a negligible amount of points on the way there. Reyer hadn't won a single game, which was clearly getting to the man. He was pouring sweat, panting hard, and frustration gleamed in his eyes.

Ryoma could feel his opponent's cold gaze on him as he took a quick swig of water and returned to the courts. Beneath the anger and irritation in Reyer's eyes, there was also a cool, calculated element. It was this that kept Ryoma from getting too complacent. Something was coming, he could tell.

"Hey, Echizen! You're still looking down on me, aren't you?" called Reyer in French. "You haven't said a word, and I don't see you doing any of your fancy little tricks. I'm not the only one who's noticed, either."

The tall brunet seemed to take Ryoma's lack of reaction as an invitation to continue. "Everyone was shocked when we heard you were going to school in Japan. Seishun High School, was it? I heard the news saying something happened there a few weeks back. A freshman got beaten up, and it was pretty brutal from what I heard. They didn't release the kid's name, though. Do you know about it?"

The boy's eyes narrowed, and his knuckles turned white from their grip on his racquet. Slowly, he shook his head. There was a new gleam in Reyer's eyes, though. Satisfaction.

"That's too bad. Well, on with the match."

Ryoma was now thoroughly angry. He didn't like the look Reyer was giving him, and he sure as hell didn't appreciate the little monologue.

Still looking calm on the outside, he began to bounce the ball in his hand. _Pok. Pok. Pok._ With a ferocious gleam in his eyes, he struck the ball and sent it whistling through the air. Upon hitting the ground, it reversed directions. Twist Serves really were the best when he got upset during a match.

This shot wasn't _just_ meant to intimidate or relieve frustration, though. For the first time in a while, he used his father's favorite serve to do something filled with childish spite. The serve rocketed straight into its intended target, that being Reyer's smug face. Ryoma watched the man stumble back with a cold satisfaction.

"I seem to have struck a nerve," muttered the unfortunate target of Ryoma's wrath, rubbing his face.

"Point, Echizen! 15 - Love!"

The boy pulled another ball from his pocket and began to bounce it. The familiar, rhythmic sound calmed him a bit, just enough to keep him from aiming for his adversary's face again.

That was where things went wrong.

Reyer smirked and positioned himself to return the serve. Had Ryoma been aiming for the man, this would have been impossible. The ball came shooting back to Ryoma's side of the court, and more specifically, to Ryoma.

The teenager's eyes widened and his body froze up at the blur of yellow aimed at his chest. In his mind's eye, a ghostly fist was transposed over the bright streak.

Ryoma heard a dull thump as the ball struck him square in the chest, and as he was thrown backwards, he heard a gasp. Whether it was his or the crowd's, he wasn't sure. The only thing he was sure of was that a terrifying ripping sensation sprouted near where the ball hit him and that a sharp burn raced through his body. He could feel it, even as he lay sprawled on his back. It was indescribable, but with every breath he took, a point on his chest twinged. Something was wrong beneath his bandages. _Did I just rip a stitch?_

"Tch." Ryoma gritted his teeth and stood. The moment he did, a jolt went through his chest. He was definitely bleeding. A glance down confirmed that his shirt was red. Good. That gave him time. He knew all too well that someone who was bleeding wasn't allowed to play, but he wasn't going to let Reyer get away with this. Moreover, were he forced to forfeit today he would lose his shot at first place. He had to see this match through to the end.

That meant he was on a timer again, though. The bandages would only hold up for so long, and after that it was just a matter of how long he had before someone noticed blood on his shirt. He'd have to make this quick and merciless.

Ryoma got into serving position as if nothing was wrong, and without preamble he resumed play. There was, however, a barely noticeable change in him. A faint breeze swirled around him, and he seemed to glow in the sunlight. There was an ethereal gleam in his eyes, and when he served, it shot across faster and cleaner than all of his previous serves.

Murmurs ran through the crowd as the spectators recognized the telltale signs of the Pinnacle of Perfection. The Prince was out for blood.

After that, the match was blatantly one-sided. Reyer had stepped too far, and even if he didn't know the extent of the damage he'd dealt, Ryoma would have his revenge. Despite the fact that he was a professional, the Frenchman barely touched the ball throughout the fifth set.

In less than twenty minutes, Ryoma Echizen completely decimated his opponent, won the final set of the match, and broke the previous record for the shortest set played in the US Open. When it was over, he was as quick as possible with the post-match formalities. He left the courts hurriedly, hoping that no one would notice the spreading dark blotch on his shirt.

In the waiting room, Kevin sat with his eyes still on the television screen. He stood and waved, smiling goofily, when he noticed the return of his friend.

"Good job, Ryoma! I told you he wasn't- hey! Where are we going?" The blond's congratulations were cut short by Ryoma grabbing his wrist and dragging him away without a backwards glance.

Once they were out of the crowded room, the boy held the hem of his shirt out to Kevin, pointing at it.

"What? Yes, it's a very pretty color, but why… _Holy shit is that blood?" _The American grabbed his friend's shirt, yanking it up to expose Ryoma's bandaged abdomen. "Holy crap! Holy crap, holy crap, holy _crap!_ What the hell happened?_"_

As entertaining as Kevin's hysterics were, Ryoma didn't think it was the best idea to be so loud about a little bit of blood. He flicked the panicky teen's forehead and pointed down the hall, towards where he remembered seeing the first aid station. They were more geared towards treating bone and joint problems, but it was better than nothing. If it was really necessary, he could still always go to the hospital. It would be better if things didn't come to that, though.

"Oh, right! The first aid place." Kevin had apparently regained cohesive thought, and now switched their positions, leading Ryoma down the hall. "Seriously, though what happened? Did you just pop a stitch from moving around too much?"

Ryoma shook his head, mouthing Reyer's name.

"Reyer? But how… Wait, that time his shot hit you right before you went all berserker on him? That was terrifying by the way, I'm _really_ glad I wasn't in his shoes. But what a stupid thing to do! Well that and it's just plain old mean. If you're losing by that much, why would you do something so freaking petty, right? That son of a…"

If he could, Ryoma would be groaning right now. Kevin seemed to think that he needed to speak enough for the both of them, and then some.

"Can I help you?"

Thankfully, the question made Kevin stop rambling. A gentle looking blonde woman in the uniform worn by tournament staff stood before them, smiling slightly. Around her arm was a white band with a red cross on it, indicating that she was from the first aid team. There were several other people milling around the room in the same clothing, as well as seated athletes nursing sprained ankles or hurt arms.

"Oh, yeah. We need first aid, and it's really important," replied the taller of the two boys. "My friend's hurt, but we'd really appreciate it if you kept this on the hush-hush."

The woman's eyebrows furrowed, but she didn't pry. "Of course. Where's the injury?"

"Um… could we do this in private, please?" asked Kevin, looking slightly awkward. The lady helping them now looked thoroughly intrigued, but she nodded and led them off all the same.

She walked down a hallway filled with doors, some open and some closed. Those of the former group had empty examination rooms behind them, very much like the ones in doctor's offices. She picked one at random, gestured for them to step inside, and closed the door behind her.

"Now, what's the problem?" she inquired seriously.

By way of response, Ryoma peeled off his shirt, which now had a dark red blotch the size of one of his hands. _That's definitely not good._

Underneath, the once-white bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulder had a large crimson stain on them. Kevin winced, and the woman gasped softly.

"Oh my god…" she murmured, her eyes wide. Without pausing to think, she bolted to the door, sticking her head out and yelling, "Doctor! We need a doctor in room fourteen, _now!_" Shutting the door again, she whirled on Ryoma and Kevin. "Lie down there, please," she said in a steely voice, indicating a bed against the wall. She then turned to the cabinet on the opposite side of the room, bringing out a pair of scissors, bandages, and gauze.

As she was cutting the soiled wrappings away, she began an interrogation. "What's your name? How did this happen? Why didn't you tell someone earlier? When did the initial injury occur, and how?"

"Oi, oi!" yelled Kevin, the pressure making him slip into his Japanese speech patterns for a moment. He began making "calm down" motions with his hands as he tried to answer the barrage of questions. "I'm Kevin Smith, and that's Ryoma Echizen-"

"What?"

"Yeah. He got hit with a tennis ball during his match and popped a stitch. He wasn't complaining and I didn't know until a few minutes ago! I honestly didn't think it was that bad. Um… the original cut was what? Almost a month ago, right? Should be pretty much healed by now…"

Ryoma nodded coolly, not looking like he was bleeding profusely and being questioned at all.

"Well, I can tell you right now that this is bad. A broken stitch in and of itself can be easily dealt with, but he's bleeding pretty badly now," she said as she finished removing the old bandages. She pulled out a wad of gauze next. "This might hurt- sorry." Without further adieu, she pressed the white padding against the source of the blood.

To Ryoma's credit, he did nothing more than twitch slightly.

"Wait, but he'll be fine, right? I mean, you're making it sound like he's dying or something!" Even Kevin was beginning to look concerned.

"No, he's not dying, but there's a chance he'll need a transfusion at this rate."

The blond smacked himself in the face. "You _idiot!_ Why didn't you just say, "Oh, hey ref, _I'm freaking bleeding!"_ I can tell you right now, it wouldn't have been that hard! And you know what's worse? Ryoga told me to take care of you're a- …Oh mother of god… _Fuji's going to freaking kill me!"_

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><p><strong>Remember the last "Meanwhile, In America?" You know, when I said Ryoma can speak, like, a gabillion (totally a word) languages? I know it seems pretty ridiculous, but: a) I figured he wouldn't be happy with a translator following him around, and b) I felt like it, and I'm the author. Na~na~nana~na. Anywho, that's how he could understand Reyer. <strong>

**Oh yeah, who saw that Pinnacle of Perfection shit with Tezuka in the anime? YOU CAN'T JUST DO THAT! IT'S **_**RYOMA'S **_**THING! I'm also beginning to wonder if PoP is involuntary, like the others originally were for Ryoma. Meh. Even if that's true, I'm just gonna assume he's gotten control of it by now and it's voluntary. **

**Yeah, the end was kinda heavy, but I tried to lighten it up a bit. No one can make a mockery of a serious situation like Kevin, eh?**


	24. Meanwhile In Japan II

**I don't know what I did in a past life, but someone is seriously pissed at me for it. I was visiting relatives for Spring Break this week, and they had no wifi. At. Fricking. All. Please for the love of god don't kill me.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twenty-Three: Meanwhile, In Japan

Part II

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><p>Gray light slowly began to filter through Fuji's eyelids. He woke slowly, knowing that his circadian rhythm would have given him ample time to relax before he actually had to get up and moving. The vitalizing smell of detergent, fresh air, and grapes hit him as he rolled over and buried his face in the satiny sheets.<p>

_Hm. He actually smells a little like Ponta,_ thought his sleepy mind, remembering whose bed he was currently in. Despite almost a week of absence, Ryoma's scent still permeated the covers. This, as Fuji convinced himself later, was what kept him in bed longer than usual.

After he could no longer take the boring – albeit comfortable – lazing about, the brunet got himself up. He tossed on a hoodie that was lying around and made his way over to the deck.

Even on cloudy days such as today, Fuji would sit outside. It calmed him and helped him plan for the day ahead. Today in particular, he had much to think about.

Their first match of the Kanto Tournament would begin in a few hours, and tense excitement was buzzing through his mind. Opinions, predictions, scenarios, and endless possibilities flitted past almost too quickly to notice. One of the foremost issues was that of the match order. Seishun would almost definitely place their Golden Pair in the Doubles One slot, and Tezuka would be taking Singles One. That left the other three slots to be taken up by Momo, Kaidoh, Inui, and himself. With the loss of Kawamura, there was almost no chance of Fuji playing in Doubles Two, and Momo and Inui were hardly ever paired, so they were also out. One of them would have to be playing Doubles Two with Kaidoh, which ruled the viper out for the remaining singles slot.

When their opponent was taken into account, Fuji was able to draw a clearer conclusion. Josei Shonan would probably place the twins in their first match of the day, and Hiroshi Wakato usually filled their Singles Three slot. The copycat was consistently a tricky player to face, but last year, Seishun had discovered that Inui could effectively counter him. The data-tennis player already had information on the professionals that Wakato copied, and as such could adapt to the changeable style. That meant Momo and Kaidoh would be placed with each other in Doubles Two. _That_ would be an issue. Their teamwork had improved along with their skills, but their tempers hadn't cooled in the slightest. They might have a hard time facing the twins, who could irritate even those not playing. If Seishun were to lose a match today, it would be Doubles Two.

On top of all this, there was the case to think about. Nishi and his son were being charged with assault and bribery, even if the latter had just been a lucky bonus. The tennis team had had no qualms about exposing what they knew about Nishi's time as coach.

Fuji, along with the general public, did not know much about the case for the time being, though. The Echizens knew that the paparazzi would jump on the opportunity to make a field day of this, and as such were trying to keep things low-key. Although, judging by the lack of sadistic workouts over the past few days, Ryoga was content with the way that the case was progressing.

When all was put together, life was going relatively well. Seishun's team was going strong, Ryoma was on his way to winning the US Open, and the bastards who had taken his voice were almost definitely going to be convicted. The only remaining issues were that of Ryoma's voice, which could only be healed by time, and of Nishi's co-conspirators.

While the former coach had been fired and the son expelled, the other students that had helped attack Ryoma remained at Seishun on a three month long in-school suspension- far too light a punishment. _They will have to be dealt with…_

Demonic visions filled his mind. The teens were pleading with him, tears in their eyes, or screaming from mental and physical pain while he watched coolly. He would have to mess with their minds first. Blackmail was an option, but he also saw merit in simple threats and intimidation.

Off to the side, his phone began to beep. It interrupted his rapidly forming plots and alerted him to the time.

"Ah, that late already?" he asked himself mournfully, wishing he could stay out in the fresh air a bit longer. Being late on a day such as today was unacceptable, but still…

The movements of Fuji's limbs were lethargic as he rose and slipped back inside. Breakfast and a little stretching would solve that easily. He yawned and went over to where he had laid out his uniform the night before.

Within five minutes, he was dressed and ready to go with his bag slung over one shoulder.

There was a quiet click as he closed the door to Ryoma's room, but the house was otherwise silent. This was the case most mornings, although sometimes he would arrive downstairs to find that Tezuka or Kaidoh had beaten him down.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the brunet noticed soft, sleepy noises coming from the aforementioned teens' rooms. No doubt the building would be alive and chaotic in half an hour.

_That still gives me at least fifteen more minutes of peace. _

It was the way things worked in his dysfunctional home. Fuji and Tezuka would be up and functioning first, and occasionally Kaidoh would be awake with them for training. There was a short period of quiet time that they would get to themselves before any semblance of serenity was destroyed. Inui would come next, always at the same time as if he functioned on a precise clock. Oishi and Kikumaru followed, and that was usually when things really got loud. Kevin, Momo, and Ryoma were always last (Ryoma, however, had reformed somewhat after he had come down to breakfast on Kevin's first day with them mysteriously drenched and shivering). Their arrival opened the floodgates to completely new levels of madness, be they in the form of arguments or simple, insane antics.

Fuji wouldn't have given it up for the world.

~X~

"Momo! Kaidoh! Now!" Tezuka's booming voice resounded through the foyer, silencing the entire team.

The two juniors in question froze, forgetting to even remove their hands from one another's collars.

Greater men would have quailed under the glare sent their way by the stern captain. Tezuka stood before the open door to the mudroom, arms crossed and eyes glinting. Most of the team was behind him, putting on their shoes and jackets.

"Hai!" the rivals chorused hurriedly. They rushed over, still shooting death glares at one another.

Upstairs, the furious sounds of someone overturning their room that had been serving as background noise for several minutes paused. "Unyah! I can't find my good grip tape!" yelled Kikumaru as he appeared on the walkway with his arms thrown up in panic.

"Kikumaru-senpai!" called Momo, sticking his head into the foyer. "If you're talking about that red tape, I've got it. You let me borrow it at practice the other day, remember?"

"Eh?" Kikumaru jumped over to the railing, bouncing up and down and leaning precariously. "Momo! You shouldn't steal people's things, nya!"

"I didn't-"

"Kikumaru!"

The redhead gave a startled yelp as Tezuka turned the full force of his wrath on him. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Kikumaru promptly swung out over the railing and let himself fall, briefly latching onto a pillar to check his speed. He landed in a crouch with his arms spread wide, then hopped straight into the air with his arms making a victory "V."

"Alright, let's go!" The acrobat vaulted over sofas and tables easily, dashing to the door. The team followed him out the door with exasperated smiles and laughs.

Vibrant plants lined the familiar pathway that headed to the school building, and the cool air woke up the group of teenagers quickly. Eventually, their paths intersected with other members of the tennis club who were coming to cheer and watch the match. A good amount of female students from the girl's tennis club and the regulars' fan clubs joined the steadily growing crowd.

There was a veritable throng by the time the school building rose before them. In the courtyard, however, those not on the tennis team broke off from those who were. The slightly smaller group of supporters walked out the front gates while the uniformed athletes drifted over to the bus waiting for them. The team would arrive at the tournament grounds first, giving them time to register and warm up.

"Okay, do we have everyone? And by that I mean I only want to know about the regulars!" Ryoga stood on the bus's bottom step, looking at his team and doing a headcount. "Hey, kid captain! You get everyone?"

Nodding, Tezuka walked up to the bus.

"Good. Alright, everybody in!" Ryoga called as he stepped onboard, waving the teenagers inside after him.

A sloppy mob of club members formed before the bus doors. Fuji stood patiently in the back, not wishing to get mixed up in all the shoving. This lead to him being one of the last to board, but he didn't mind. Sitting down next to Inui, who was too frightening for most to sit next to, the brunet settled in for the ride.

Most of the conversations going on were tuned out, and the only sound coming from Inui was the occasional scratch of pen on paper, so the trip was peaceful.

In what seemed like far less than fifteen minutes, they arrived at the tennis courts. Ryoga ushered them off like a kindergarten teacher, then herded them over to the registration table. At this point, the man took the lead. He spoke to the administrator briefly, who laughed awkwardly at something the coach said. Ryoga handed over their papers and walked off with a jaunty wave.

"We're over here, guys! You ready to kick some Josei Shonan ass?" He smirked at the cheer that arose. "Damn straight you are. It'd be embarrassing for me if we lose today. Now let's go!"

Fuji readjusted his bag for comfort and followed his teammates. His smile broadened slightly. For whatever reason, he found himself actually looking forward to the match today. Tennis had become fun for him at some point over the years, quite possibly because of a green-haired, completely tennis-obsessed freshman.

At the courts, they found that they were second to arrive. Occupying one of the benches was they motley crew that was Josei Shonan. In the past few years, none of the members had changed much. Many of them, the twins especially, had grown taller, and there was more of a mature look to their faces now.

The only major change was the loss of their well-endowed coach. The woman, upset as she was to see all of her "masterpieces" go, had remained in the middle school division. In her place was a young, precise looking man in a business suit.

"Gather up!"

At the loud order from Ryoga, Fuji snapped out of his assessment and walked over to where the regulars were gathering. The man was holding a sheaf of papers and a pencil.

"Okay, so the match order. Everyone here? Yes? Good, because I'm not repeating myself. We're kicking it off with Momo and Viper in Doubles Two- not a word, either of you. We're putting the lovebirds in Doubles One, go figure, and Inui in singles three. I heard that redheaded guy's got a pretty interesting style, so I'm counting on you to take him down."

So far, Fuji was amused to realize, his predictions were spot-on.

"Fuji, you're against the big creepy guy in Singles Two. Have fun with that. Tezuka, hopefully it won't get to this point, but you'll be facing their captain in Singles One. Got it?" Ryoga looked expectantly at his team, daring anyone to protest. "If everyone's cool, then Momo and Kaidoh, get ready!"

A few minutes of final preparations eventually found them lined up before the net once more. Fuji absentmindedly went through the obligatory pre-game motions. After the referee's announcements, wish your opponents good luck. After that, bow. After that, return to the bench, sit down, and shut up. Then, the only thing to do was to watch the match.

"Oi, Momoshiri, don't screw this up," warned Kaidoh with his eyes locked on the feminine duo standing a few yards away.

"That's what I should be saying," responded the trickster calmly. "Just remember that these two are annoying as hell."

"Che. Isn't that your problem?"

Fuji found it slightly amusing to watch his younger teammates' interactions. They had two different types of argument. One was the most common- loud, violent, and virtually pointless. The other was playing out before his eyes. This type of verbal spar was almost understated. No fists went flying, and the words were more efforts to fire up the other than anything else.

The match began with Youhei serving, and the first game was really a toss-up. Either pair was fighting for dominance, in number of points and how much they could irritate each other. Momo and Kaidoh won out in the end, though, thanks to their ever-improving signature moves.

Unfortunately, that was where things started to go downhill.

Right after they lost a game to Seishun's pair, the Tanaka twins began their taunting. Some of the insults were actually quite brilliant, Fuji realized. He gave them credit for being close to his level at getting under peoples' skin.

The genius found his predictions coming true one after another. The two passionate teenagers from his team were getting increasingly angry with their opponents, which led to careless mistakes. The twins took advantage of this to the utmost.

Using their superior vision and hearing, along with their uncanny ability of making people repeatedly screw themselves over, Youhei and Kouhei began to stomp all over Momo and Kaidoh.

The smile slipped off of Fuji's face and his eyebrows creased the tiniest amount. It would be no good if they lost the first match. Sets a bad precedent and all. He only hoped that their not-so-dynamic duo could pull through as they always did. Some form of catalyst would be needed for that, though.

This catalyst came four full games later, when the score had reached five-one. One more game lost by Seishun and Josei Shonan would take Doubles Two.

When the pairs were switching courts and taking a water break, Ryoga pulled his frustrated charges over to the side. Thanks to the practice at lip-reading he had gotten with Ryoma, Fuji was able to discern what the coach was saying.

"_I'm not going to sugarcoat anything. They're killing you. Unless you're planning on losing this match and letting your team down, step it up. I can tell that they're _really_ annoying, but you're letting it get to you way too easily. You saw how things went in the first game; you can beat these two. Calm the hell down and pay these bastards back."_

Fuji expected no less from an Echizen. Ryoga had been blunt and astute, but at the same time he had used the exact words needed to return Momo and Kaidoh's fighting spirit. A new determination burned in the teens' eyes.

Fuji's gentle smile returned and his piercing eyes opened. For the time being, he was possibly the only one to think so, but Seishun was about to win this match.

"I was _my_ Neo Dunk Smash that beat those punks down!"

"As if! It was the Boomerang Cobra, shit-for-brains."

Fuji's iron concentration was struggling. In fact, the brunet was fairly sure that _Tezuka's _iron concentration was struggling.

Momo and Kaidoh were at each other's throats, trying to decide which of their modified finishing moves had been of more use in the previous match. This was unfortunate, seeing as an interesting battle was playing out not twenty feet away.

Fuji's crystalline eyes flicked over to the scoreboard. Next to the Doubles Two score of seven-five stood two glaring white fours.

On the courts, Oota and Kiriyama faced the Golden Pair with stony expressions. Both pairs of teenagers were surrounded by a silvery, fluctuating aura, and all of their eyes were an unnerving gold. The match had become a struggle between Synchros.

"Momo, Kaidoh. You'll miss something interesting…" said the brunet quietly.

At the brief statement, the juniors froze and looked at their upperclassman. No one could ignore Fuji, after all.

Momo's jaw hit the ground. "Ah! We haven't had a good Synchro-off in _ages!"_ With a giant grin on his face, the teen jumped over the fence separating them from the court. "Eiji-senpai, Oishi-senpai! If you can hear me, then good luck!"

There was a chance that they could indeed hear Momo, seeing as the Golden pair had virtually mastered their Synchro, but Fuji didn't feel the need to share that. If everyone else in the audience found out how far Kikumaru and Oishi's potential had really stretched, it would take away so much of the suspense, and that would be no fun at all. The knowing smirk on Inui's face told him that the data man shared his sentiments.

"Ne, Inui," he murmured. "When do you think they'll stop playing around?"

In the seat next to him, Inui looked up from his notes. "According to my calculations…"

A bang went off as Kikumaru swatted the ball down from midair with a nearly invisible Kikumaru Bazooka. Inui smiled.

"Now."

Fuji laughed and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slightly. "Ara, at this rate I don't know if I'll get to play."

Yumiko would be proud of him right now. Although they were a bit calculative, Fuji's predictions seemed increasingly clairvoyant. Inui was currently playing Hiroshi Wakato, and winning by a wide margin.

The redhead had won the first game, at which point Inui announced that he was done collecting all the base data. From there on, despite Wakato pulling out top pros' styles, Inui began to dominate. Whether it was Djokovic, Hewitt, Nadal, or McEnroe, Seishun's senior had enough data to defeat them.

The only changeover that had really gotten to Fuji was Ryoma's. Even if the boy was someone Josei Shonan had known in middle school, of course Wakato would have taken in his style. He was the best, after all. That didn't mean Fuji didn't torture the flirtatious carrot top a little in his mind for daring to act like Ryo-chan.

Even this, the top player in the world, wasn't enough to stop Inui's data. A copy could only go so far, after all; it would never be as good as the original.

The moment Wakato realized this was the moment he switched to something far more irritating. He began to mimic the top players from the high school circuit.

Sanada.

Tezuka.

Chitose.

Him.

_Now that's just eerie. _Fuji was currently watching Wakato perform a frustratingly imperfect Higuma Otoshi (honestly, people had pulled off better copies in middle school!) with a tiny smile and closed eyes.

"It's the perfect changeover for you," announced the redhead. "Everyone knows you can't collect data on those three monsters from your team, especially Fuji-san."

Inui stood with a blank face in the center of the court, staring at the ball at his feet. Slowly, an evil smile spread on his lips. "That's certainly true. Fuji is impossible to get a read on, even for me. You, however, are only copying Fuji's moves, not his mind. You should know that I have analyzed every nuance of every counter trying to figure him out."

Wakato's eyes narrowed. All traces of his cocky bravado were gone in the face of this challenge. "We'll see."

After _that_ sort of creepy proclamation, Fuji could only hope that Inui would crush Wakato.

The brunet's hopes were brought to fruition in ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes found him staring at the scoreboard dejectedly. The formalities were over and done with, ("Seishun Kokou has won three matches to zero and will advance to the next round!") but the numbers were still up: 7-5. 6-4. 6-1.

The four spots left open for Singles Two and One remained blank. Fuji sighed in resignation. It had been a good, interesting match, but now it was over, they had won, and he hadn't gotten to play against Shinjou Reijii. _A shame, really,_ he thought as he grabbed his bag. _I had wanted to test myself against "Deep Impulse." I suppose there's nothing for it, though._

He caught up to the team, who were all in high spirits thanks to their advancement.

"Where to now?" he asked the group as a whole with his customary smile.

Giant grins broke out on Momo and Kikumaru's faces. "Kawamura-senpai's, of course!" exclaimed the former.

"Yep! We're going to make it just in time to see Ochibi's match, nya!"

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><p><strong>Man, what was with the mega-paragraphs this chapter? You'd think I would know, seeing as I wrote them. <strong>

**Oh, I know it sounds kinda spoiled, but I got my first flame and… well, what else can you say? It wasn't fun. The person was upset at what happened to Ryoma a few chapters back. I expected this, but most of you stuck to, "Oh poor Ryoma!" etc. What I got just now, however, was a fricking death threat. Anywho, the point is, what every single author says: "DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ." If your complaints aren't constructive, or at the very least rational, please keep them to yourself. **

***Sigh* Thank you to all who reviewed constructively, because I've been getting some really sweet, long reviews lately and from some new people, too. I really do appreciate it. **

… **You thought I wasn't going to give you this, didn't you? Eheheeee…**

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><p><strong>~Omake~<strong>

Fuji had an issue. He was trying to focus on Ryoma's match, but there was quite a bit of noise and activity that the television had to contend with.

"_Hot! _Water! Water! Damn it, Fuji-senpai, how do you eat that crap?"

"Ah, Momo, are you okay? Did you steal Fuji's sushi again?"

"Oishi! Come back, nya! Momo-chan can get his own water!"

"Okay kiddos, I got this great drinking game. It's called-"

"_No!"_

He didn't react to Momo's theft, knowing that the sushi itself had a built-in anti-theft system, so to speak. He didn't even care about Ryoga's attempt to get the team to play a drinking game. All he was paying attention to was on the screen mounted in the corner of the room. There, the image of Ryoma was playing a nameless Frenchman (granted, it was from twelve hours ago). It was a relief to see his boyfriend, healthy and unstoppable, out of reach though he may be.

That is, until the tennis ball collided squarely with the small boy's chest.

He gasped and sat bolt upright. The heads of everyone in the room snapped towards him at the unusually expressive display. Their gazes followed his, and as the surprised commentators called for a replay, their eyes widened in horror.

"That bastard!" yelled Kikumaru, being the first to break the deathly silence. He shot to his feet, closely followed by Oishi.

"Is Echizen okay?"

The mother hen's question was, for once, perfectly reasonable. The teenager still lay where he had been thrown, spread eagled on his back. Slowly, though, he got to his feet again. After that, the match went quickly. Even though he seemed to be perfectly fine, Ryoma had apparently taken offense at the harm to his person. If he had been beating his opponent earlier, he was obliterating him now.

"That's a relief…" sighed Oishi, sinking back into his seat. "When I saw where that hit, I thought… well, you know."

Kikumaru and Momo nodded, and even Kaidoh and Tezuka had slight hints of relief glinting in their eyes. Fuji, on the other hand, was even more concerned than before.

Ryoma wouldn't have been quite so quick and clean if he was truly angry with the man, and he wasn't the type to get _that_ upset over being knocked down once. No, something else had happened.

A close up of Ryoma leaving the courts enveloped the screen. The boy was walking too fast. With a moment's search, Fuji discovered why. It was nearly impossible to see on the already crimson background, but sure enough, there was a dark, fist-sized splotch on Ryoma's abdomen.

"Blood?" he murmured to himself, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Ryoma had popped a stitch. That was why he had been in such a rush, and that was why he had taken so long to get back up. The image of Reyer's face flashed up on the screen, and Fuji found himself mentally repeating Kikumaru's earlier sentiment. _That bastard…_

He glanced at Ryoga and Inui, who, judging by the looks on their faces, had figured it out as well. Without a word, he whipped out his phone, stepped away from the crowd and pressed a number on speed dial.

Four impossibly long rings later, he heard a click signaling that his call had gotten through.

"_Do you know what time it is?" _demanded a furious, groggy voice in English.

"Is he okay?" Fuji asked in a steely tone that left no room for argument. Ryoga glanced over at the harshly spoken words, which Fuji had said in English.

A yelp of surprise sounded on the other line. _"F-Fuji!" _Kevin sounded considerably more lucid than he did moments ago. _"You saw that?" _

The brunet didn't deign to respond, letting his cold silence speak for him.

"_Well damn. Please, please, please don't kill me! It wasn't my fault, I swear to god! The idiot just kept playing!"_

"Is. He. Okay?"

"_Yes, yes, he's fine. He needed a transfusion, but he's fine now. I gave him a juice box and told him to shut up and take a nap."_ The American was regaining his senses and his confidence as he realized that Fuji might let him live.

The genius sighed. "That's good. I'd hate to think of what would happen if he was hurt while in _your care."_ Fuji could practically see the following wince taking place across the globe.

"_Ah… Well, that's-"_

"Because, you know, he's very important to both me and Ryoga-san. If he got hurt… Well, Ryoga might begin to think up some interesting work outs for you to take his mind off of it, and I might remember that I know five different ways to get into your room, ne?"

"_Er…"_

**~Owari~**


	25. Homecoming

**XD You all responded surprisingly well to my bitching last chapter- thank you for that. And HOOOOLY crap, we hit 250 reviews. What the actual hell. How have you people managed to deal with me this long? Not that I'm complaining… THANK YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME!**

… **You know what? I'm not even gonna bother posting my excuse for being late. Just know from now on if it's not up on Sunday, it'll be up within a few days.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twenty-Four: Homecoming

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><p>Ryoma's ears popped loudly and he felt a slight shifting in his gut. Outside, the world was a tiny model of its true self. From his vantage point, he could see Tokyo and the surrounding bay spread out beneath him. The plane was beginning to tilt nose down, ready to land.<p>

With a relieved sigh, the boy leaned his head back and closed his eyes. America was interesting in its own way, but Japan was still home.

_Japan's still where Fuji is._ Without warning, Ryoma slammed his head back against the headrest. It was punishment for his mind, thinking such strange things, and perfectly justified.

Kevin shot him a strange look, but didn't comment. The blond was too intent on squeezing just a little bit more time on his iPod into the flight before they descended to ten thousand feet and had to turn their electronics off. Why, Ryoma hadn't the slightest idea. They had been stuck in the cramped cabin (first class or not, an airplane was still an airplane) for who-knows-how-many hours and he had no clue why the little screen in his friend's hands was so entertaining.

Leaning forward again, he looked out the window. The landscape below was getting clearer, and the few wispy clouds drifting in the sky were already behind them. No doubt it was a perfect day down on the ground.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our final descent into Tokyo, Japan. The ground temperature outside is seventy-eight degrees-" Ryoma, along with the other clearly Japanese passengers, balked. "-Fahrenheit."

…

_Americans. _

"It is twelve fifty, local time,and we are estimated to arrive ten minutes ahead of schedule. Once again, we'd like to thank you for flying with us."

The pilot's announcement ended, and Ryoma resumed his quiet vigil. The ground was drawing ever closer, and with it came the strangest urge to be home as soon as possible. It had been an unspeakably long day, with their first flight leaving New York at five in the morning and this last leg of the trip touching down at what would be nine P.M. in New York. Not only that, the past few weeks had all seemed to drag, tiring him out as they went. Getting back into top shape without hurting himself was proving to be as difficult as it was fun.

Hopefully he would be well enough by next week to play a good match, seeing as Seishun would be facing Hyotei in the upcoming round of the Kanto Tournament.

_Monkey King might be an issue, but I should be okay, since the finals went well enough at the Open. _

He smirked, remembering the cool feel of the large silver trophy in his hands and the chill settling on his skin as his heart calmed and he left the state of self-actualization. Djokovic had taken the loss well. The man had been smiling as he shook Ryoma's hand and made a joke about how he hoped the teenager would be too preoccupied with school to come to the next Grand Slam tournament.

The young celebrity had smirked then, too. Some may have taken it to be an act of triumph, which it partially was, but really Ryoma had almost been wishing he could laugh. Djokovic would get his wish; Echizen Ryoma was officially retiring from the pro circuit.

For now, anyways.

He let his mind wander aimlessly for the last few minutes of the ride, and soon enough the familiar rumbling sensation shook his body as they touched the ground again. His ears popped again, making the background noise on the plane clearer and louder than before.

"Ryoga's picking us up, right?" Kevin pivoted in his seat, his hands already itching to unbuckle the seatbelt across his lap and get moving again.

Ryoma turned his lazy golden eyes on the American. He nodded once and returned his gaze to the window. Baka-Aniki was the only one who could drive (sans Oyaji, but Ryoma didn't want to deal with him) so their only choice had been to accept his offer to come and get them.

After a long and boring taxi, the plane came to a total stop in front of the gate. Almost as one, the passengers stood and began to gather their bags and stretch. Kevin was clearly trying to keep himself from bolting around the cabin after having been forced to sit for hours on end.

"_Calm down, Peroxide head. You can freak out all you want once we get home."_ Ryoma made sure Kevin had understood him and returned to gathering all of his things.

It took several minutes of shuffling around and dodging their fellow travelers, along with Kevin nearly getting lost and breaking a display board, but eventually the two teens found their way to the luggage carousel. Their one large suitcase came out quickly enough, and Kevin took it outside, complaining loudly about its weight.

"But did you seriously have to put the damn trophy in the bag? Why couldn't you have gotten it shipped or something?" The blond huffed and leaned back against the wall with crossed arms.

Ryoma didn't respond and began looking for his brother's car. All around them, people were bustling around, hugging relatives, and loading cars with luggage. But Ryoga was nowhere in sight.

Just as the irked boy was about to tell Kevin to just call the idiot already, he saw a sleek little BMW round the corner. Their chaperone was behind the wheel, looking thoroughly bored.

Ryoma gave Kevin a quick punch to the shoulder and pointed.

"Hm. That was actually pretty quick, considering it's Ryoga," observed the teen. He stepped up to the curb, waving energetically.

A smirk broke out on Ryoga's face and he began working his way over to his charges.

"Yo, Chibisuke. Nice job over there. The media's all over it, you know? They love how weird you are." The man hauled their suitcase into the back of his car and ushered them in. "Oh yeah, and how's your chest doing? It healing up okay?"

Kevin, seated in the shotgun seat, seemed to decide that the airport's concrete walls held the meaning of life. _Wasn't my fault, wasn't my fault, wasn't my fault. _He glanced at Ryoma nervously. It took all he had to stop himself from crumpling in relief when his friend nodded without comment. "Well, should we get going now? I want to get back to the dorm."

For the next half hour, they were forced to put up with Ryoga's driving. Ryoma was convinced that his older brother was in less control behind the wheel than Kikumaru-senpai. The most terrifying part was quite possible that the elder Echizen did it on purpose.

They finally came to a screeching halt in front of the dorm, at which point Kevin all but leapt out of the vehicle. "No matter how many times we do that I can't get used to it…"

Ryoma left at a more relaxed pace, but even he looked slightly green.

Ryoga, for his part, bounced out of the car with a massive grin on his face. "Ah… That was fun!" The man stretched and slammed his door shut. "Oi, Kevin, grab your bag from the trunk, will you?"

"Eh? Make him do it," whined the blond, jerking his head in Ryoma's direction. Still, he circled around the car and grabbed the bag. "It's good to be home, na, Ryoma?"

The boy smirked at his friend out of the corner of his eye and nodded. He led the way into the dorm, idly wondering what to do after unpacking. Maybe he could sleep off the jet lag.

Ryoma dug around in his pockets, looking for the key that he hadn't used in weeks. The lock clicked, and he shoved the door open.

"_Surprise!"_

He had never wished for his voice to return more than he did at that moment. Curse words just weren't the same when you couldn't shout them.

What seemed like half of the high school tennis circle were crowding the main room of his dorm. Hyotei, Rokkaku, and Fudoumine in their entirety, plus the Three Demons of Rikkaidai. They were standing around the foyer, smiling and waving as if they lived there too.

His sharp eyes caught a flash of red near the upper level's banister. _Oh, please god no._

"Ko-shi-ma-e!"

The shrill, ear-splitting shriek rent the air just as a small, strong body slammed into him.

"Ne, ne, Koshimae! Have a match with me! We came all the way from Kansai to see you, you know?" Toyama Kintaro was clinging to him like Kikumaru, grinning in his face like a maniac.

_We?_ thought Ryoma.

"Kin-chan," said a smooth, relaxed voice. "He just got back; let him relax."

_Ah. Right. The babysitter._

Said babysitter stepped forward, shooting a glance at his youngest regular that said, "Get off." Shiraishi extended his un-bandaged hand to shake. "Congratulations, Echizen-kun. Good job over in the states."

Ryoma shook off his surprise at the situation and took the teenager's hand. That seemed to be the extent of his relative peace, for as soon as their hands were unclasped, the wolves descended.

The wolves being his oh-so-beloved teammates, of course.

~X~

"Take _that, _mother-"

"Eiji!"

"But Oishi! He was asking for it, nya!"

Ryoma sighed and returned to his game of pool against Kevin, Fuji, and Kintaro. Ten minutes ago, Gakuto and Kikumaru-senpai had challenged each other to a game of ping-pong, and everyone in the game room had been testing their reflexes dodging the little white balls ever since.

Currently, the room was packed. There were several people using the consoles against each other in one of the warfare games or another, and it was this group making the most noise, then there was the acrobat showdown over on the other end of the room, which had gathered a small crowd of onlookers, and his billiards competition. Yanagi and Inui had taken a chess set over to the quiet room so they could focus (there was no doubt in Ryoma's mind that their game would be remarkably strange) and all of the other guests had gone to wreak havoc in the pool or the backyard.

His teammates had arranged this massive party to welcome him home, and in the process they had decided that they should invite everyone possible. It was actually almost touching, in a strange way.

He wouldn't be the one cleaning it up afterwards, though.

With narrowed eyes, he brought his hand forward, getting a sound hit on the cue ball. It swerved to avoid the trap Fuji had set up, and struck the eight ball cleanly. The black orb rolled smoothly into the corner pocket, dropping in with a resounding thump.

Kevin sighed in disgust. "That's game."

Fuji showed no disappointment at his loss after pursing his lips for a moment. "I still can't beat you, ne Ryo-chan?" he teased, laughing at the disparaging look the boy shot him.

"_Eh?_ Koshimae, play another round!" demanded Kintaro, giving his rival puppy-eyes.

Before Ryoma could respond, Fuji stepped forward. The brunet hooked his arm through his boyfriend's and began to walk off. "Sorry, Toyama-kun, but I have to borrow him for a minute."

Ignoring the redhead's protests, Kevin's quizzical look, and Ryoma whacking him on the arm in askance (or petulance) and walked over to Kikumaru.

The brunet cocked his head to the side and brought his hand into the now unoccupied space to catch the ping-pong ball flying at him. "Eiji, Taka-san should be here soon. I'll go downstairs with Ryoma to set everything up, ne?"

"Are? Okay, thanks a bunch, Fujiko! I'll be down to help right after I beat this bastard, nya." The catlike boy was already returning to his game as he finished the sentence. Not wanting to risk being caught in the crossfire, Fuji decided to take his leave.

He dragged Ryoma downstairs, eventually switching his grip from the boy's wrist to his waist.

They walked to the kitchen slowly, Fuji nuzzling Ryoma's hair playfully and whispering, "I missed you," over and over.

Ryoma leaned into the touch slightly, that being his way of reciprocating. The tiniest of smiles crept onto his face. He tilted his head back at Fuji without warning, mouthing, "_Do you want to have a match tomorrow?"_

The genius laughed. Of course that would be one of the first things the boy wanted upon returning. "Should I show you the counters again?"

The freshman shrugged, but there was a predatory glimmer in his eyes that was saying _hell yes._

They put their banter on hold, having reached the kitchen, and Fuji began to flit around. Ryoma saw him getting cups, soda, and dessert, and decided to grab plates and chopsticks. Kawamura was coming over in a few minutes with sushi for dinner, and his upperclassman had apparently just volunteered them to set things up in the foyer.

When their arms were filled with food, drinks, and plates, the couple headed back to the central room.

While Fuji set his pile down on the large table that had been set up, Ryoma dumped his unceremoniously and drifted over to the couches, yawning hugely.

His attention drawn by the sudden change, Fuji followed. He sat gracefully on one of the large sofas, gesturing for Ryoma to join him.

The boy was probably more surprised than Fuji at the fact that he didn't protest to this. Instead, he flopped down like he had just played a set with Monkey King. For whatever reason, he was crashing, and crashing hard.

The brunet tilted Ryoma's face towards his own, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Fuji scooted closer, and Ryoma took the opportunity to rest lay his head down on the older teen's shoulder. _So tired…_

"Jet lag?" suggested his current pillow gently. The brunet drew him close with one arm, and the smaller teen curled into the warmth in response.

He nodded. That made sense. While it was still relatively early in Japan, he was still on American time, and that meant that he had just essentially pulled an all-nighter. Still, it was slightly ridiculous how quickly it was kicking in. Somewhere from the back of his mind, he remembered Inui-senpai explaining narcolepsy.

"_The extreme characteristic of falling asleep whenever slightly relaxed."_

Compared to the past few hours, this position was _extremely_ relaxing. _Sounds about right,_ he thought as his eyelids drifted shut.

~X~

Fuji glanced down at the head of green-black hair nestled on his chest. Ryoma's breathing was steady and deep, signifying that the boy had managed to fall asleep in the ten seconds that they had been there. A fond smile widened on his face.

He had to say, the object of his affection was far more agreeable when tired. The boy would barely let him get away with anything when fully alert. Then again, maybe that's what made it so fun.

He ran his fingers through Ryoma's hair slowly. It was an incredible feeling to have his Ryo-chan back after so long, and he wished that they could stay like this a while longer.

But that would just be too easy, wouldn't it?

The doorbell rang, breaking the sweet silence, and with it came Taka-san's familiar voice.

"_Burning!_ Kawamura Sushi delivery service here!"

He winced slightly, pulling out his phone. Trying to shift the weight on his chest as little as possible, he dialed Kikumaru.

"_Moshi moshi?"_

"Eiji, it's Fuji. Could you come get the door? Taka-san's here."

"_Unyah? Why can't you get it, Fujiko?"_

"I'm a little tied up right now."

Through the line, he heard the noise of the game room fade out. _"Gotcha. I'm coming, nya."_

Knowing he would see Kikumaru within seconds, Fuji hung up without farewell. Sure enough, the spiky red hair and large, inquisitive eyes poked around the corner just as he was putting his phone away.

"Thanks, Eiji," he said with a sweet smile.

The acrobat, whose eyes had widened when he first entered the room, put on a sly grin to match the Cheshire Cat's.

"I knew it! No one can beat my eyes, nya! Congrats, Fujiko, but I've got no clue how you got Ochibi to agree-"

"Eiji. The door," reminded the brunet gently.

"Ah. Hai."

Kikumaru returned momentarily with Kawamura on his heels.

"Yo! Fuji, how've you been?" yelled their former classmate, swinging his large containers of sushi energetically.

The teen smiled and waved, but then brought his finger to his lips, pointing at the boy sleeping on him.

Kawamura's jaw dropped to the ground, and had Kikumaru not swept in to save them, the platters of sushi would've followed. With his hands now empty, a beet-red blush rose on his cheeks.

"Oh, ah, sorry Fuji," stammered the teen, rubbing the back of his head. "So are you two, you know…?"

"Together?" supplied the genius. "Yes. Is that alright with you?"

Kikumaru laughed boisterously, swinging his arm around Kawamura. "Of course it's okay, nya!"

"Are you sure?" asked Fuji, his smile never faltering.

"Positive! After all-" Kikumaru grinned "-I'm pretty sure three quarters of the people here are out of the closet already!"

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><p><strong>Who liked the fluff? III DIIID! But I won't put in so much that it gets sickening, nuh-uh. XD But oh, god… <strong>***laughing* I had sooo much fun with that last scene. **

**Ugh… I was sick this week, and while usually that means yay-stay-home-and-write, I had this killer headache XP I had to make this chapter a little shorter because of that…**

**PS- Everyone give a big thanks to BronzeButterfly18 for giving me the idea for the "Ryoma falling asleep on Fuji- NGAF" scene.**


	26. Getting Back

**Hey guys! I write these before the chapter, so you tell me: did I get this chapter up on time? Hope so… *added a ****few days later* Haha nooo, no I did not. Sorry guys! *added a few days later* Okay, this is just getting bad *added a few days later* … … -facepalm- *few days later* Just… why. I'm really sorry. *added the last day I was writing this* I look back at my first question and LAUGH.**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twenty-Five: Getting Back

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><p>Ryoma, had he been asked, would have no way of explaining how exactly he had gotten into his current situation. It just… happened. That's all he knew.<p>

He gasped and arched his back, his vision blurry. "_Damn it… Get off of me!" _He mouthed the words vehemently, knowing he would've shouted them if he could.

The weight on top on him did not lift at all, if anything it pressed into him closer. The insistent tugging, pinching sensation on his neck sped up along with it.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

Fuji pulled back, bringing his head into Ryoma's line of sight. The boy scowled as the brunet's perpetual smile came into view and sat up forcefully. Fuji let himself fall backwards onto the thick comforter below them and propped himself up on one elbow. Ryoma, for his part, was still simply trying to regain his breath and composure. He sent a withering glare at the highly amused Fuji.

"_Would you stop doing that? People are going to notice."_ The boy was scowling again, rubbing the abused purple skin of his neck. He then stood, determined to get away from the demon lounging on his bed. Said demon wouldn't have it, though, and as soon as Ryoma was on his feet, the blankets beneath him were whipped away. His small body tumbled back to the mattress with a light bounce.

"_Bastard,"_ he mumbled, not caring that Fuji couldn't see his lips.

"How can I stop when you look so cute, though? The look on your face is absolutely priceless, you know." The playful senior tugged Ryoma over with surprising force and rolled on top of him.

The freshman, now far past petulant and annoyed, looked about ready to punch Fuji away from him. He shot each of the arms on either side of his head an icy glance before looking at the smiling face looming over him.

"_Get. Off."_

The teen above him laughed, knowing that Ryoma was doing this more for his pride than anything else. "You know you like it," Fuji teased, sweeping down for a kiss.

Ryoma nipped at the larger boy's lip for being so irritating, but eventually began to return the affection. Their tongues locked in a merciless fight for superiority, and for the first time, the younger found himself on the winning end. He swept his tongue around the inside of Fuji's mouth, flicking it against the roof and exploring the new territory.

The brunet pulled back, smiling breathlessly. "Not bad," he panted.

A frown tugged on Ryoma's lips. _Oh, no. He's not stopping just when I beat him._ Letting his competitive side take over, the boy's hand shot forward to coil around the base of Fuji's skull. He pulled down, hard, until their lips met again. Immediately, he resumed exploring the mouth of his… teammate, boyfriend, lover, whatever Fuji was to him. One hand wandered to the genius's back.

Ryoma felt Fuji's lips tighten in a smile, and warm, minty breath ghosted into his mouth as they both paused for breath. "This is new," whispered Fuji impishly. "Why so eager all of the sudden?"

Before the dark haired boy could finish scoffing at the question, Fuji pounced. While Ryoma's mouth opened in protest, the brunet slipped his tongue past the parted lips. The boy was taken aback as the previously docile teen above him began to practically assault his mouth, even pinning his wrists down for good measure.

Ryoma strained against the grip holding his arms down, and he could see the brunet doing the same to match him. The embrace didn't stop, though. Their legs twined together, and their tongues still danced around each other.

It was enough to make Fuji laugh. The little teenager underneath him was the same boy who was so snappish about their relationship and who had been so inexperienced with all things romantic a few short weeks ago. Judging by the way he was swirling his tongue around Fuji's own, the past tense was crucial here. He _had_ been inexperienced, extremely so, but not anymore.

It was the same Ryoma that was so calm and mischievous that was giving him a run for his money right now, making him work to keep his position on top. It was, in a word, thrilling. The defiant spark that had flickered for weeks now was a roaring flame again- Ryoma was healed.

He smiled into the passionate kiss, so unlike anything they had shared before, and began to slow the pace. Things had been fiery, ardent, and extremely sudden up until then, and while that was all fine and good, he suddenly felt the urge to enjoy his partner's rare compliance. He knew that instances like this wouldn't happen often and that the boy would deny it until the end of the world that they had happened at all, so he planned to milk the intimate moment for all it had.

Ryoma moved with Fuji as they rolled onto their sides, wrapping their arms around each other but keeping their mouths firmly locked.

The mute boy, though he couldn't express it through moans or whispers like Fuji, felt a completely new sensation rushing through him, concentrated somewhere low in his gut. It was similar to the adrenaline of a good match, there was the familiar heat and need for more, but it was still indescribably different. This yearning was more desperate, and instead of needing to conquer and defeat, he just needed to get _more_. He imagined that being addicted to heroin was something like this.

Cool, smooth hands began to drift over the skin of his waist and back, tracing the contours of his spine and shoulders. His shirt started sliding up his back as a heavily panting Fuji began sucking and biting on his neck again.

"Oi, Fuji, Echizen! Breakfast!"

Of course the door would open just then.

Both of the feminine boys looked up in shock, their limbs tangled together, their faces flushed, and their clothes disheveled.

"_K-Kaidoh-senpai..." _mouthed Ryoma, peering between Fuji's arms as he caught his breath.

The junior was standing in the doorway, looking at his two thoroughly entwined teammates with wide eyes and a face to match Marui Bunta's hair. He was completely frozen up under the two gazes, one golden, childish, and surprised, and one flat, blue, and almost curious.

"B-Buchou said breakfast on the table," spluttered Kaidoh, spinning on his heel and bolting from the room like a bat out of hell, slamming the door behind him.

"Well," said Fuji, standing and brushing nonexistent dust from his clothing. "That certainly killed the mood."

Ryoma was slowly overcoming his innocent shock, and as he realized what had just transpired, his face began to glow red-hot. Apparently, it wasn't just from embarrassment.

"_You- You dumbass!_" The boy grabbed Fuji's shoulder and spun him around to make sure he was understood.

The brunet wasn't phased in the slightest at being walked in on, nor did his roommate's outburst ruffle him. He simply gave a quick peal of laughter and walked away towards the bathroom. "Language," he chided. "And this wasn't really my fault. You were incredibly pushy if I do say so myself."

Ryoma made a "tch" and shoved Fuji out of his way, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. He reemerged several minutes later, dressed in his school uniform and composed, if a bit tired and flushed.

A devious smile threatened to split Fuji's face in two. "Changing took you longer than usual," he observed casually. "Did you do anything else in there?"

Already standing in the doorway with his bag in hand, Ryoma paused and turned to send his roommate a look that could freeze hell over. "_Don't screw around with me."_ He swept out, slamming the door behind him.

It took all of his self-restraint not to turn back at the sound of bubbly laughter coming from the room.

~X~

Ryoma kicked off the ground with one last forceful stride, not bothering to control his momentum afterwards.

"Goal!"

He collapsed on the ground with a grateful sigh, sprawled out carelessly. For a few moments, the small tennis player let himself just catch his breath as he lay in the dirt with his teammates, listening to their uneven panting.

"Heh… Everyone made it again…" Ryoga sighed in disappointment, looking at his stopwatch and shaking his head. "You guys really don't want that juice."

The regulars were beginning to clamber back to their feet under the incredulous watch of those with less stamina. The number of laps had been upped recently, and with it the time they were given had gone down. Let it never be said that Seishun's tennis team didn't condition themselves well.

"Anyone who doesn't have their weights on yet, go get them," announced the young coach. When not a single one of the regulars moved, he raised his eyebrows slightly. "Do you people sleep with those things on or something?"

They knew the question was asked sarcastically, and therefore no one decided to say that yes, most of the time they did.

"Ryoga-sensei," chimed in Inui. "My data and recent evaluations suggest that the regulars are ready to add another lead bar to each of their weights. None of us have displayed any inhibitions in our movements for the past week."

"Huh?" Ryoga glanced at the data master, not used to hearing "sensei" after his name. "Go do that, then. But Chibisuke, I need to talk to you, and I know your weights are full anyways, so keep your ass planted here."

The man's smaller version complied, standing and bouncing a tennis ball absentmindedly against the frame of his racquet until the area cleared out.

"Alright," said Ryoga once the brothers were alone. "You missed the ranking tournament while you were gone. Technically, you're not a regular right now- Arai is."

Of all the things Ryoma was expecting, this wasn't one of them. His eye twitched the tiniest amount. "_Why didn't you tell me earlier?" _As he spoke, his hands flitted in a few brief motions to get his meaning across.

Ryoga noticed the tic in his little brother's facial expression and grinned somewhat sheepishly. Tomorrow was Saturday, exactly one week after Kevin and Ryoma's return from America, and also the day of their second match in the Kanto Tournament, where they would face off against Hyotei. He _would_ say that he had been too busy to bring it up, but…

"I forgot."

For a moment, Ryoma wasn't sure how exactly to respond. So, to fill the silent gap, he simply blinked and sighed irately. "_So what now? I just have to beat him, right?" _

"Heh." Ryoga smirked and clapped his brother on the shoulder, ignoring the boy's slight grimace of discomfort at the contact. "Atta boy! You can use Court C, and make sure you're back soon. We're doing evaluations today and you're not getting out of it."

Spinning on his heel, the freshman snorted and walked off to find his ticket back into the regulars. It took a great deal of sifting through identical blue tracksuits, but he was finally able to track Arai down. The slightly apprehensive look that the second year was wearing told him that the situation had already been explained. That solved one issue; Ryoma hadn't had the slightest idea how to really communicate with someone who couldn't read lips.

He jerked his head towards their court and simply walked away. If Arai already knew what was going on, then there was nothing to talk about. Ryoma knew what would happen, his senpai knew what would happen, the first years knew what would happen, and even the small cluster of girls watching from outside knew what would happen.

And it did.

"Good job, Chibisuke. But watch yourself, one of your serves almost didn't get through." Ryoga scribbled something down on a clipboard, glancing at his younger brother and the collapsed, exhausted junior lying on the ground several feet away.

The green haired boy shot him a quizzical, slightly amused look. "_As if."_

The elder Echizen snorted, clicking his pen shut. "I find your lack of humility… disturbing," he said in English, knowing Ryoma would understand the joke. "Now that you're officially a regular again, though, you'd better get back to practice. You missed power evaluations, but if you've been wearing your weights you'll be fine there. Now they're setting up the reflex test, so get over there before Kid Captain gives you a set of laps from hell. Or maybe I'll spontaneously forget that you suck at doubles because you missed evaluations and you won't be playing alone tomorrow."

Ryoma made a face at the mere prospect of doubles and, without further comment, spun on his heel and jogged off to rejoin his team. _Reflex testing, huh?_ _Hopefully it's not…_

The boy ground to a halt, frozen at the sight of three seemingly innocent cones spaced out on Court A. _Oh hell… _

He had assumed that the team had outgrown this. For Christ's sake, it was a drill that had been introduced _years_ ago. Apparently Inui believed heavily in the basics, though Ryoma honestly couldn't fault him for it. Most of the regulars refined their own play styles, moves, and strategies on their own time, so all that was really left was to condition their bodies and give them experience in practice matches. Those that weren't on the regular squad were being adequately challenged by the drills as it was.

One way or another, though, it seemed they were all in for a gauntlet run today. A gauntlet run that he would win at all costs, lest he have to find out exactly how much Inui had "improved" his juice this time.

He slowed to a walk as he drew level with the other regulars, all the while eyeing the basket of multicolored balls as if it had personally wronged him and everything he stood for.

"Well, now that we're all here, we can begin," Inui announced suddenly, having noticed their youngest member's arrival. "I believe you're all familiar with this drill, no?" A dark, eerie smile spread across the teen's face as he drew a massive pitcher of shifting black liquid from behind his back. "You'll go one at a time, and those who hit the least cones before missing will get to try my new Aozu Version IV."

To their credit, several of the regulars had gotten better at hiding their abject misery and terror at the sight of Inui's concoctions. That wasn't to say that they _all _had. Several shudders and grimaces ran through the gathering.

Inui looked up from his notebook, snapping it shut with a sadistic grin and a black aura. "Now, first up."

~X~

The diminutive athlete tugged his hat down, and settled into a basic athletic stance, not sparing a glance for his three unconscious teammates a few feet away. Kikumaru-senpai had let himself lose focus, Kaidoh-senpai had fallen for the overused "no, that one's blue" trick, and Momo-senpai was an idiot in general. They deserved their fates.

From his place across the court, Ryoga casually yelled, "Here I go, Chibisuke!" The green-haired man tossed the ball high into the air, bending backwards like a spring. He sent a rocketing, forceful serve to the very edge of the receiver's box, making it as difficult and awkward as he could for his younger brother to return the shot.

All the same, Ryoma smirked and struck the ball cleanly. The boy watched in satisfaction as it swooped toward one of the small tape X's that had been scattered around the court.

"Al-right," drawled the elder Echizen. "Congrats Chibisuke, you just saved yourself from a pitcher of Aozu IV; hit a ten ball rally with me by only hitting the tape and you're cleared from the accuracy testing and drinking a shot of Penal-Tea. Got it?"

A catlike smile slipped onto Ryoma's face. "_Why don't we make it twenty hits with five balls?"_

The boy's brother snorted, preparing to serve again. "No can do. It would mess up Inui's data. Looks like he's still mada mada… _daze!"_ Ryoga grunted out the last word as he swung his racquet down.

"_Is that so?"_ inquired Ryoma calmly, backhanding the ball ferociously. It curved in a perfect Buggy Whip Shot and slammed into an X on the edge of the court, throwing up a cloud of dust.

"Oi, oi, Chibisuke!" called Ryoga, easily continuing the rally. "When'd you learn to do that? Buggy's shouldn't be possible without a forehand!"

Seeing as he was in the mood to irritate his brother, the freshman smirked and hit the shot again. Instead of using the accepted stance for a curving shot, Ryoma seemed to be hitting a perfectly ordinary backhand- though it only _seemed _that way to those not looking very carefully. Ryoga, on the other hand, was paying extremely close attention, watching every flex of his brother's muscles and the slightest twist of his limbs. He unleashed his own feline grin.

"Alright, got it," he said in a soft, triumphant whisper. The look on Ryoma's face when the man hit a perfect copy of the supposedly impossible shot was, in a word, priceless.

"Tch."

"Mada mada daze!"

The unoccupied members of the tennis team watched in awe as the two Echizen brothers finished out the ridiculously competitive set, barely needing to pay attention to the X's they were hitting and doing their utmost to annoy each other. They had to be reminded that they were, in fact, only supposed to be hitting ten balls each before stopping.

"Whe-ew!" joked the elder, lacing his fingers into his messy green locks behind his head. "That was fun, nah, Chibisuke? We should do that more often."

The smaller version took a quick sip of water and fanned his face lightly with his hat. "_Sounds interesting."_

"Damn straight it does." Ryoga ruffled his brother's hair and gave him a shove, thrusting the boy's bag forward. "Now go cool down and get to class, you little punk!"

A rumpled Ryoma walked off, shoving his cap back down over his eyes. Most of the other regulars were stretching by now, seated on the ground by the clubhouse and chatting amicably. He joined them, bending to touch his toes, spinning his arms in large circles, and holding his ankle up behind him. Just when he was finishing his basic routine or cool down exercises, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Behind him stood Fuji, who was practically glowing from the thin sheen of sweat over his skin.

_Typical. He doesn't get all red and gross, he freaking _glows_ when he works out._

The brunet held out a hand with a smile. "Partner stretching?" he suggested.

Ryoma chalked the slight heat he felt around his face and neck to the recent physical activity. He gave a curt nod and sat with his legs in front of him, waiting for Fuji to push on his back. The senior complied with a laugh, finding reason for mirth in the smallest things as always.

The two traded places and headed back into the locker room with their team to change for the coming day at school. The entire simple process of getting into their uniforms had become exponentially weirder in high school, for now he had to see Kikumaru-senpai and Oishi-senpai flirting on an almost-daily basis. And, more recently, he had Fuji-senpai shooting him teasing bedroom eyes whenever he was missing an article of clothing.

Something seriously messed up was going to happen here one day, one way or another.

The regulars and unseeded members left the locker room in a large group, eventually getting separated by the flow of students and their different destinations. All too quickly, Ryoma was left in front of his classroom with only Horio, Kachiro, Katsuo, and absolutely no peace and quiet.

The four stepped in, being almost immediately ambushed by Tomoka and her followers, all asking questions and yelling greetings. To Ryoma's disgust, the obsessively persistent Tsukiko slid up to him, clutching his arm and pressing her chest into him.

Mournfully, he thought back to the last thing Fuji said to him before they went their own ways. "_You'll be going to _all_ of your classes today, right?_" he had said.

Ryoma groaned. He had no clue if he would even survive to get to them all.

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><p><strong>Okay, I'll admit it: I'm getting LA-ZY. I've got the muse, but ugghhhhh… NO GOD DAMN TIME (ah tests, they are the bane of FFN writers everywhere, no?)!<strong>**So, what I've decided on after much agonizing contemplation (clearly) is to once again switch the update day. I'll be posting every two weeks now- GOMEN!**

**Poor, poor Kaidoh… XD Tell me if that scene was total crap, though, because I've never tried anything like it ^^**

**Did you know "Atta boy!" is grammatically acceptable? I thought I'd get the red squiggly line of doom when I typed it, but apparently it was fine.**

**This is getting kinda long-winded, but I've got one last question: Should I cut Ryoma's hair to around the canon length (god knows this story's Ryoma has enough reason)? Review or vote on the poll on my profile, 'kay?**


	27. Troupe of Monkeys

**-3- … Hm… Excuses later- chapter now!**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twenty-Six: Troupe of Monkeys

_In the bedroom's doorway, two small, delicate looking hands clasped together. A pair of golden-brown eyes sparkled in excitement, and another set of crystalline blue orbs twinkled mischievously. From somewhere below, voices shouted back and forth, inquiring after possessions and schedules._

"_Shall we go?"_

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><p>"The winner will be Hyotei! The winner will be Hyotei! The loser will be Seishun! The loser will be Seishun!"<p>

Ryoma groaned (or attempted it, anyways) and dropped his head as if he wanted to hit it against something. Hard. Unseen by his team, he muttered, "_One fluke win and they won't shut up."_

Fuji seemed to read his mind, nudging him on the shoulder. "As always, making them shut their mouths will surely be fun, ne? For Inui and Kaidoh?"

The freshman sat up again, nodding and fiddling with the tennis ball produced from his pocket. He tossed the bright green ball up and down, following the movement with his eyes like Karupin with her favorite toy. He thought back to Doubles Two. It may not have been a _total_ fluke, as Inui-senpai had been forced to use the strenuous Neo-Waterfall to compete with Ootori's Scud Serves, but winning because the data-man's arm wouldn't hold up anymore was hardly something to be so excited about. He gave a long, deep sigh. "_I just want to wipe that smug look off of Monkey King's face and go home already. Maybe take some hair as a souvenir."_

Beside him, Fuji stayed silent out of respect for the Doubles One match being played in front of them, but Ryoma could feel slight vibrations in the bench as the brunet's shoulders moved with stifled laughter.

The next several minutes were spent watching the match quietly, with occasional remarks going back and forth among the team about its progression. There were murmurs, cheers, and laughs running rampant through the crowd, but within the court, every tennis player was busy silently analyzing the strategies and moves being used.

"See what Gakuto is trying here? He knows that he irritates Kikumaru to no end, and that he takes real pride in his speed." Ryoga seemed to pop up from nowhere as he began to lecture them. "He's doing something trickier than the normal psychological warfare that you see in tennis, and his partner – that Oshitari guy – is in on it too. They aren't taunting or anything, at least not about the speed thing, but the fact that Gakuto's going out of his way to be quicker than Kikumaru and Oshitari does the tiniest things to make Kikumaru notice means they've planned this- extensively. It's pretty smart, too, because if their up-front irritation strategy fails, they have this to fall back on and gradually create stress between Oishi and Kikumaru. I want all of you to think on how to do this, only specific to your opponent's tics and habits, how to notice it, and how to avoid it. Hyotei isn't bad at it, but there are people out there that specialize in it and they're damn annoying if you've never learned how to handle them."

A good portion of the team stared in open-mouthed shock as Ryoga explained the situation so offhandedly. They knew that their coach was perfectly competent, but he rarely gave speeches, and he barely ever went so deep into the psychology of things. Ryoma, who had known where his brother was aiming after the first sentence, simply leaned back and took a sip of Ponta.

"_You think Kikumaru-senpai has noticed it yet?"_ he asked Fuji casually.

"I feel as if he's getting an inkling, and Oishi's almost figured it out. Either way, I don't think we have to tell them about it. If Eiji can keep calm, then they can definitely beat these two," responded the genius thoughtfully with one hand on his chin.

"_Does Hyotei have Synchro?"_

"I believe so, yes."

"_Think it'll come down to that?"_

"Probably."

Ryoma nodded, his eyes narrowed as he saw Kikumaru-senpai gritting his teeth. _Keep it together, senpai…_

Apparently, Oishi had also noticed his partner's first signs of frustration. The teen placed a hand on the redhead's shoulder, a warm yet stern look in his eyes. "Cool down, Eiji," he said soothingly. Then, Oishi leaned in and spoke in Kikumaru's ear too softly for anyone to hear. Ryoma guessed he had pointed out what Gakuto and Oshitari were doing, because whatever the mother hen had said caused Kikumaru to blink and straighten up. The acrobat had a new determination in his eyes and spring in his step.

"Let's do this, partner!" The redhead's cheerful yell rang across the court as the next game began, and the more observant audience members saw faint white mist swirling around the Golden Pairs' feet.

A sly grin formed on Ryoma's lips. _Yep, _he thought,_ definitely going to be a Synchro battle._

~X~

"Point, Seishun! Advantage Fuji!"

"Did! You! _See _that!"

With a roll of his eyes, Ryoma rested his head on his palm again, having been startled from his position by the sudden shout that was no doubt heard all over the complex. Maybe through all of Tokyo, too.

Jirou, ever the excitable two year old when playing Fuji, was bouncing all over the place at mach speed, raving about the latest counter to be unveiled. Apparently, though he had seen almost all of them from the sidelines of matches, "It just isn't the same as seeing all that awesome right in front of you!"

The ordinarily sleepy brunet leapt back into the receiver's position, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Can I see that disappearing serve again, please?"

With a dry laugh, Fuji took up his underhand serve stance. "No, I'm not really sure if you can," he joked, sending the ball flying. To the untrained eye, the ball vanished without a shimmer (fortunately for Seishun, their eyes had been _forced _into training a while ago by some of the more ludicrous shots they encountered). That was apparently one of the benefits he'd reaped after two years of refining his play. The ball now disappeared quicker, cleaner, and without the slightest trace. Fuji had also used this advantage to come up with different versions of it that could work on a few different types of players. He did not share how they were done, and as no one could see the ball, relying on intuition and luck to hit it, the secret to the move _stayed_ a secret. Quite a feat in a league full of copycats.

For no apparent reason, Jirou's racquet shot out to the side. Many onlookers murmured in confusion, wondering what he was doing, but a few were able to hear a slight scraping noise and see a faint green blur.

"Saa… I didn't expect that, I must say. Very impressive," praised Fuji. A slight quirking of his lips showed just how impressive he thought it was.

The ball was rolling away from Akutagawa slowly, and it was clear from its path that the narcotic teen had managed to brush it as it passed, solely relying on his instincts.

With a sheepish laugh, Hyotei's representative scratched his head. "Ha… It wasn't much, really!"

In the middle of their banter, the official announced start of what could be the last game.

Ryoma stopped listening as Akutagawa went on a tangent about how he had to win the next game to prolong his match with Fuji. Had _anyone _changed in two years? He had returned expecting to have to adjust to the differences, but this was almost exactly like seventh grade.

"He certainly has a point," muttered Inui suddenly. "If Jirou-san doesn't hold his serve this game, Fuji will win."

"And Fuji-senpai's got that look in his eyes…" Momo was squinting, leaning forward to get a better look. Suddenly, he blinked and shuddered. "Ugh. He's definitely planning something. Glad I'm not Jirou-san."

That particular sentiment turned out to be one shared by many as the next few points played out. The match began swaying heavily in Fuji's favor, as he had long since adjusted to any new tricks and strategies that the sleepy Hyotei student had come up with since they'd last played.

All of the first three points were finished with one of the now infamous counters, be they the original classics or the most recent. Ryoma was convinced that Fuji was taking immense pleasure in the shocked and incredulous reactions he got out of the crowd.

_But if this is what he's using as the buildup, _thought the boy as Fuji finished the point with a Black Horse, _I guess the grand finale will be pretty interesting then. I wonder what he's schemed up this time…_

The next, and possibly final, point of the match started up.

His spirits never to be dampened, Jirou served energetically and shot up to the net. "I haven't had this much fun in _ages_, you know!" he yelled. "I'm never playing the monsters in Singles One," the teen laughed and bent his wrist back impossibly far, hitting a drop shot, "I really miss out, huh?"

Fuji didn't respond. All of his concentration was focused on getting to the net in time. Putting on a burst of speed, the brunet shot up to meet the ball, remembering all too well the game that he'd lost two years ago because of Jirou's little trick. _Not this time. He may have improved, but so have I. _

"Dragon's Breath." Beginning with a neat slicing motion, Fuji positioned his racquet beneath the ball and spun it around once, unleashing the chaotic shot onto the court. It flew around too fast for the eye to follow, leaving a flaring yellow trail behind it.

"Just… this… _once!"_ yelled Jirou, closing his eyes. Tensing and standing perfectly still for the briefest of moments, he suddenly darted to the side with his arm outstretched.

To the shock of everyone around the court, Fuji included, there was the distinct sound of a ball making a good, solid connection with a racquet. The gentle popping sound of a drop shot settling seemed to echo long after the ball had rolled away. Fuji stared open mouthed at the tennis ball at his feet.

"_He- he returned it?"_ Ryoma mumbled faintly. Even he and Ryoga had admitted they might have some trouble returning the Eighth Counter, but this guy had just… Ryoma could feel his opinion of Akutagawa Jirou rise a few notches.

"Saa…"

The word broke everyone's trance, and no few pairs of eyes snapped to the brunet standing in the middle of the court. Fuji bent and picked up the ball at his feet, tilting his head as he looked at it curiously. Many of his schoolmates shuddered, noticing that his eyes were open and they held _that_ kind of gleam. The you-just-exceeded-my-expectations-so-it's-time-to-die kind of gleam.

"Well done, Akutagawa-kun," said the genius in a friendly voice. "I think you're worthy of seeing this now."

Defying what many would do when placed in the same situation, (namely shivering and getting as far away from Fuji as humanly possible) the Hyotei student in question put on a massive grin and bowed, shouting, "I look forward to it, senpai!"

Fuji laughed quietly. "I would expect no less from you." He turned took one step before pausing. "Did you notice? Today has very good conditions for tennis. No wind at all." That said, he walked to the receiver's position.

On the bench, Ryoma scrunched his eyebrows together. That sort of statement was the exact opposite of Fuji's usual remarks, and since the teen was obviously aware of that, there had to be some sort of reason to it. Something big was coming.

Akutagawa served, and as he ran to the net, his footsteps were drowned out by Fuji's voice.

"Fifth Counter: Hecatoncheires no Monban."

The brunet made quick work of adding and doubling the spin on the ball, the motion quick, practiced, and perfect.

"Sorry, but that won't work!" Akutagawa let out a short yell as he struck the ball, reversing the spin enough to get it over the net. He never saw his opponent's smirk.

With a borderline eerie smile, Fuji lowered his racquet to his side. "Thirteenth Counter: Nikkou Hanabi."

"You are _kidding me!_"

Momo's loud, incredulous voice served as background noise as Fuji swung his arm upward, hitting a tremendous lob. For a moment, the ball was completely hidden from view by the sun's glare. Then, it came plummeting down again. Several onlookers were seeing stars as the shot came crashing back down with an audible whoosh, making a resounding bang as it bounced and shot back into the sky. When its momentum was expended, the ball looped downward slowly into Fuji's waiting hand, looking for all the world like a firecracker that was fizzling out.

Akutagawa was speechless, his mouth dangling wide open in a disbelieving grin. When he regained his senses, the teen bounded up to the net and began talking a mile a minute. "Ne, ne, show that to me again! Oi, Atobe, did you see that? That was _amazing!"_

Again, Fuji laughed softly. "I'm sorry, Akutagawa-kun, but with this the match is over." He reached out one hand to shake, and the sandy haired teen took it enthusiastically. "Thank you for the fun match."

"I should be thanking you!" beamed Akutagawa. "That was the best match I've had in a while! Too bad I lost, though… but whatever! To think something like that was possible!"

Many in the audience laughed as he continued on a scatterbrained rant while walking off of the court.

Fuji left calmly, a satisfied look on his face. Many of his teammates would have called it smug. He accepted a congratulatory slap on the back from Ryoga with a nod and slight laugh, then walked over to sit between Ryoma and Kikumaru.

"_How long's that one been in the works?" _asked the younger player casually while he stood up to stretch and find his racquet.

"Too long," replied the brunet cryptically. When it came to the development of new counters, he kept a strict "for me to know and you to agonize over yet never find out" policy- no exceptions.

With only a raised eyebrow, Ryoma moved on. "_So a Hoshi Hanabi that doesn't need wind. That makes how many?"_

Fuji hummed, pausing momentarily to think. "If we don't consider Houou Gaeshi, Kirin Otoshi, and Hakuryu to be their own counters, which most don't, it would be thirteen. I should make a new one so the number isn't unlucky, then," he commented with a laugh.

Shooting him an odd look, the dark-haired freshman snorted. "_Have fun with that."_ He looked over his shoulder to see the courts ready for Singles Two. "_I'm up,"_ he announced, spinning on his heel and snatching up his water bottle in one motion.

Ryoma walked forward, staring his opponent in the eye. He still found it a tad hard to believe…

_Flashback_

"_Tezuka! Your brat wasn't standing in the spot for Singles One at the lineup! I made it perfectly clear that I wished to gift him with a match, nah, Kabaji?"_

"_Usu."_

_Ryoma stared incredulously at the gray-haired teenager that had come over to their side of the courts during Doubles Two and started to throw what could only be called a temper tantrum. Atobe was pointing imperiously at Seishun's captain and glaring in a way that demanded answers. _

"_I will be playing in Singles One today, Atobe. Echizen is in Singles Two against Kabaji-san." Tezuka would not be cowed so easily, and he replied with complete calm, barely looking away from the match. _

"_I have played you and only you since middle school, Tezuka! No matter how entertaining you may be, I need to put the brat in his place after Nationals."_

_This time, the brunet turned his head to look coolly at Hyotei's captain. "Our match order is set and decided. It cannot be changed."_

_Atobe smirked and fanned one hand over his face dramatically. "That is where you'll see that we at Hyotei can be far more adaptable than you, Tezuka." He turned his intense gaze to Ryoma with a predatory grin. "I'll do you a favor and cut your hair to a man's length. The winner will definitely be Hyotei."_

_The boy narrowed his eyes coldly. While he actually wasn't very opposed to his hair being cut, the insults to his masculinity and chances of victory would not be easily forgiven. _

_Flashback End_

"Feel honored that I deigned to lower myself from my rightful place in Singles One to face you, brat."

So Monkey King had actually managed to change the Hyotei lineup at the last minute. Ryoma had no clue how it had been done, but that particular issue didn't trouble him at the moment. What mattered that he was in for a challenging, fun, and probably ridiculously extended match. He saw it as a chance to truly test how far he and his rivals had come in the past few years. Before now, none of his matches in the tournament had been very challenging, and any potentially difficult matches had been cut short. Throughout the US Open, he was not so much worried about his skills being inadequate as not being able to _use _said skills.

Today would be different, for sure. His wounds had healed and he was at the top of his game again. The look in Atobe's eyes said that the older teen was chomping at the bit; he wanted to get the match going.

Yes, things would be different today. The tournament was really starting today, for Ryoma at least, and nothing could have pleased him more.

With his trademark cocky smile, the boy stepped forward and slammed his racquet down on the ground, handle up.

"_Which?"_

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><p><strong>I'm sorry, but I just decided to screw updating until exams and everything were over, and it threw me out of whack. I hope those of you who shared my pain recently can understand XD So… Don't kill me? Self and I were having a fail-fest over how much we (okay, it was all me; he did his job) slipped-slash-screwed up.<strong>

**I believe "nikkou" means sunbeam, but I don't really trust internet translators. If anyone knows whether that was correct/incorrect, do tell. Oh yeah, and hanabi=fireworks.**

**Was Atobe good? I tried to make him a mix of pompous hot-air-blowing diva and better-than-thou awesomeness.**

**The poll (Do I cut Ryoma's hair or not?) is leaning towards leaving it long, but I'm going to keep it up for another chapter or two so… yeah. Figure it out.**


	28. Royal Dispute

**Cool! We passed 300 reviews! Thank you all very much and again, I seriously can't believe you put up with my laziness. And since we're talking about the "woohoo" kind of thing, HAPPY 1****st**** BIRTHDAY HWGA! Seriously doesn't feel like it's been a year. Well, anywho, I denied you this chapter long enough, soooo… ONWARD!**

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><p><span>Here We Go Again<span>

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Royal Dispute

_Last Time: With his trademark cocky smile, the boy stepped forward and slammed his racquet down on the ground, handle up. _

"_Which?"_

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><p>"Now, shall we get this started, brat?" In his full self-proclaimed glory, Atobe Keigo stood ready to serve the first ball of the match. On the other end of the court, Ryoma stood lazily in place. There were only tiny hints (a shuffling foot here, a tensed shoulder there) giving away the fact that he was poised to spring.<p>

"You'd better show me all you've got!"

Ryoma gritted his teeth as he saw what could only be the Tannhaüser headed straight for him. _Damn it. The one serve that I can't quite… How did that footwork go? _

In one training session, he recalled his older brother addressing the issue of what was one of perhaps three serves that Ryoma had yet to return. Monkey King had at one point returned a Tannhaüser by using an offensive contact move called the front foot hop. If Ryoma's memory was correct (which it usually was in regards to tennis) then it was a combination of a step and a twisting jump. If his memory wasn't correct, then he could kiss the chance of breaking Atobe's serve goodbye.

_Well, nothing to lose, and the first point and a stupid look on Monkey King's face to gain,_ he thought as he took the first step. _You hop, hit the ball, and let your legs cross… Shit. _

He had managed to hit the ball, which was an improvement, but the contact had been sloppy and he could already tell that the ball would be out. Ryoma scowled as his prediction came true and the ball struck the ground a good foot outside of the line.

"Hah… not bad, brat," Atobe drawled with a confident grin. The teen's eyes turned to steel without warning as he served the ball again. "Sorry to say it won't be happening again, though!"

He wanted to say something. He practically _needed _to say something. The urge to make a caustic remark for the world to hear was burning a hole in his tongue. Unfortunately, he would have to let his actions speak for him right now. _Hop. Hit. Cross. Land. Now eat it, Monkey King._

The irritation melted away at the look on Atobe's face. He had seen some pretty interesting expressions over the years, but this one had to be in his top five. It was stuck somewhere in between surprise, anger, and grudging approval. It _had_ been a damn good shot, too, deserving of that approval. Considering how badly his last attempt at returning the Tannhaüser had gone, the deep slice that he had managed wasn't half bad.

Ryoma let out a quick breath, making as close to a scoffing laugh as he could.

The mocking look in his eyes snapped Atobe out of his daze, and the diva quickly bounced back. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected any less of you, brat. That one's time was just about up anyways. Best pull out the stops, nah?"

Well _that_ was annoying. "_Didn't you tell me to do my best? Pretty stupid of you not to take this seriously, Monkey King," _Ryoma said coolly, though his words could well have been lost on the idiot. "_Especially since you're going to lose."_

He thought he could hear Fuji laughing somewhere off to the side. "Atobe-kun! Do you need me to translate?"

_Bastard._

"As if the great me would ever! But, Echizen-" Ryoma nearly jumped at the use of his real name "-I must say I'm curious. Was this why you didn't speak to anyone the other day?"

He guessed that Atobe was just too proud to actually ask what happened. Said or not, though, the question was still there, and the memories came with it. The freshman's eyes turned cold, and those who knew him could see the simmering fury and pain beneath a thin shell. "_Wouldn't you like to know…" _he muttered. "_If you seriously know what I'm saying, then hurry up and serve."_

"Don't get too confident." His eyes like hardened steel, Atobe got back into position. _And don't think I'm going to forget about that; you're mute and I will be finding out why._ "Now," he announced, "Let'ssee if you can pull it off twice!"

To no one's surprise, Ryoma _was _able to return the serve a second time, and in doing so he began one of his and Atobe's now-infamous rallies- rallies that both players were too stubborn to lose. This particular one lasted an impressive fifteen before the point was decided.

Ryoma hissed in irritation as he felt his muscles freeze and the ball flickered out of his vision. No matter how many times Monkey King used that dumb "World of Ice" thing on him, he just couldn't get used to the feeling. He hadn't been expecting it, either, as Atobe hadn't done anything arrogant or outlandish directly before it, so using Samurai Zone hadn't even occurred to him.

That put the score at 30-15, and they were twenty minutes into the match. Many in the audience, largely those who had seen the two "Royals" go head to head before, concluded that they had no hope of getting home before sundown.

Another fifteen minutes and the first game finally ended. Ryoma scowled (or pouted, depending on who was looking) at the scoreboard, his smug opponent, and the court in general. Despite beating one of the most difficult to return serves in the entire tournament, possibly the entire country, he hadn't been able to win the first game. The "1" in Hyotei's column of the scoreboard was mocking him.

_I really wanted to hide this longer. At least until I played Yukimura again… But there's no choice. _So far, his part-time guinea pig Kevin was the only person to see his newest serve, the Corkscrew. Ryoma had shown it to neither Ryoga nor Fuji, nor anyone else on the team.

He burst into motion, twisting his racquet at the last second to add the spin he needed. Ideally, the serve would hit the ground between Monkey King's feet, but Ryoma found that things almost never went ideally when facing strong opponents. In fact, strong opponents usually had the uncanny ability to invoke Murphy's Law at all times. Ryoma repaid such people in kind by messing up every bit of their plans that he could, but it still irked him.

Hyotei's captain had predicted the serve's path and managed to get his feet out of the way, so Ryoma would have to settle with the awkward footing that Atobe now had.

As the senior moved to return the ball, it began to whip around his ankles. To Atobe's credit, he barely recoiled, but the irregular course had cost him any chance at getting a good hit. As it was, he barely clipped the ball, sending it into the net.

Over the crowd's various reactions, he sent another appraising look Ryoma's way. "I guess it's good to know you haven't let your skills slip lately."

"_Who would?" _the boy said with a glare. "_I'm going now."_

Another Corkscrew went over, flying towards Atobe almost too fast to see.

"Don't think the same thing will work twice, brat!" yelled the older teen, skipping back a step and returning the serve barely after it had left the ground.

Ryoma was already skidding forward on his heels, drawing his arm back. By now, Atobe was well familiar with the stance. _Without a doubt it'll be one of the drive volleys… but which?_

The ball didn't seem to jump up and off of Ryoma's racquet, so that meant either Drive C or the Cool Drive. It would be problematic if it were the Cool Drive; that one he wasn't so sure he could return.

So of course it was.

Ryoma fought back the urge to laugh as, for the second time in so many games, Monkey King got a distinctly _un-_dignified look on his face. He knew that barely anyone could return the Cool Drive even when they knew it was coming, and he was more than happy to exploit that for all it was worth.

The ball fell back down on Atobe's side of the court and rolled away, unnoticed by the teenager.

Deliberately ignoring the intense look coming his way from across the court, Ryoma pulled another ball from his pocket and began bouncing it, ready to serve. "_What did your old coach call it? Ultra-aggressive tennis? Let's see it then." _

Atobe cocked an eyebrow. "Come," he ordered.

This time, Ryoma chose a Twist Serve. Atobe was good enough to read the spin and return it in time, kicking off another ferocious rally that made the non-regulars' heads spin. This time, Ryoma made sure to put a slight, unnoticeable Zone spin on every ball he hit. Even so, there were a few times during the rally that he almost froze.

There was one such time that Monkey King decided to get inventive. In the space of one moment, he hesitated while looking for the ball, and found it (unfortunately) veering directly for his racquet hand. He felt a sharp pain on his thumb and instinctively opened his hand.

"Death's Icy Hand!" called Atobe as he jumped into the air. "And… Rondo Towards Destruction!"

Ryoma tried to look as defiant as he could as the ball hurtled past, ruffling his hair slightly.

"30-15!" yelled the referee, looking resigned to his fate. He'd heard horror stories about insane, obsessed kids that played better than adults, giant lights falling while the participants _kept playing,_ and injuries that included but were not limited to crucifixion, multiple bruises and lacerations, a sliced open eyelid, and all but broken wrists. Again, the young participants kept playing with them. He had also heard tales of these two in particular, and their obscenely long match two years ago. He was saddened to know that not a single one of his colleagues had been exaggerating.

With the telltale "_pock, pock, pock"_ of a tennis ball on the court ringing in everyone's ears, Ryoma was preparing to serve again. The freshman let out a large puff of air.

"_Here goes nothing."_

Pock. Whack. Bang. Roll.

The ball bounced against the ground one last time before being thrown into the air. Ryoma hit it at the top of its arc with all he had. It impacted with the ground of the receiver's box and… rolled directly away from Atobe's waiting racquet.

The prince gave one of his trademark smirks, pointing at the still ball with his racquet. "_New and improved."_

On the sidelines, Fuji's eyes were wide open, and a Cheshire grin was spreading on his face. "Ne, Tezuka. Was that…?"

"Aa," said the captain calmly, looking at his youngest teammate. "But it was different. His Zero-Shiki Serve has surpassed mine."

"Mm… Is that so?"

"The roll was faster and more forceful, and there was less delay in between the impact and the roll," explained Tezuka, his eyes never once leaving the court.

"Well," Fuji said, the word coming out as a breathy laugh. "Things _are_ getting interesting, aren't they?"

~X~

"If they don't finish soon, we'll have to put the match on hold and continue tomorrow. We aren't supposed to allow the matches to continue past sundown."

Ryoga sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, thanks. I'll pass on the message."

The Hyotei coach, a stiff looking man whose name the elder Echizen had never bothered to learn, nodded his agreement and walked away to where his player sat, regaining his breath.

Ryoga did the same, coming back to Seishun's bench to the sight of his little brother dumping ice water over his head while Fuji massaged one of his legs (_that_ got the brunet a warning glance).

"Feel better, Ryo-chan?" inquired Fuji with a gentle smile.

The fifteen year old stood, bending his knee and hopping up and down a few times. "_Yeah. It's moving better now."_

"Just watch your step, ne? Making mistakes is easy when you're tired." With that, the senior walked off.

After a protective, wary glance at the retreating back, Ryoga turned to Ryoma. "Okay, so here's the deal. They're booting us out of here at sunset, so we've got to finish this before then. Got it?"

The boy nodded, taking several deep breaths.

"You can do it, Champ," encouraged Ryoga with a slap to his brother's shoulder.

Ryoma began to walk back to the court before pausing and looking over his shoulder. "_Let's make it ten minutes again, how 'bout?"_

"The tie-break match between Seishun's Echizen Ryoma and Hyotei's Atobe Keigo will resume at the previous score of two hundred and six all!" announced the unfortunate referee, who was beginning to show signs of fatigue himself.

Atobe was the first to serve, going for flat out speed instead of the Tannhaüser to keep his shoulder from hurting more than it already was.

The ensuing rally lasted for exactly eight minutes and forty-two seconds. Ryoma had lost to another one of Atobe's ice-related moves – he was too tired to remember its name – putting the score at 207-206 in Hyotei's favor.

Time was running dangerously low. He could see the referee looking at his watch. The roaring cheers of the Hyotei students were getting louder.

_I can't lose this. I _need_ to win, without fail. I need to win… it wouldn't be any fun otherwise._

Just like that, a jolt of electricity seemed to run through him. His body suddenly felt cooler, his vision sharper, his movements freer. He hadn't entered this perfect state in a long time, and he had almost forgotten how good it felt.

_Sorry about this, Monkey King, _he thought with tranquil determination, _I've got no intention of losing here, though._

To him, the next few seconds passed both very quickly and very slowly. It was always like that. Every movement was always fast and liberating, but he was able to process things almost one frame at a time. So ultimately, though he didn't exactly know long it took him to win the next three points, he knew that they had been won within his remaining seventy-eight seconds.

The lead in his limbs returned with the force of a truck, almost making his knees buckle. Ryoma was suddenly aware of everything outside of the game again. There was a surprising lack of sound; everyone was still in shock, then.

_That makes now a good time. I just hope it isn't too quiet._

Before the referee could stammer out the official news of his victory, Ryoma took a firm step forward, looking his rival right in the eyes. He took a deep breath and…

"Mada… mada… dane."

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><p><strong>... Yeah consider that my "please don't kill me" present.<strong>

**Now some of you have expressed an interest in reading Nishi's cronies' comeuppance. Fuji's hinted at it, and now we're going to see some cogs turning…**

**~Omake~**

Several hours later found Atobe Keigo lounging in one of his home's various studies. Faint sounds of his chattering teammates came from the room next door, where they had all come for dinner after that day's disappointing match. Quiet, soothing violin music played in the background, and the lamps were muted to a dim orange glow.

"Oi, Oshitari," he called, setting down his cup of tea. "What do you make of this?" Atobe made a lazy gesture at the file in his hands, containing a three-page report, court transcripts, medical records, student profiles, and a dozen photos. Quite impressive of Oshitari to have gathered this all in a few short hours. No one really knew how he did it.

The violin music stopped, and Hyotei's resident genius stepped forward casually with his instrument still in hand. "It all seems oddly cliché, but if it's true then it explains several points and most of it has been confirmed by a source inside the school."

"Is that so… And there's been nothing from the media on this?"

"None."

The king snorted. "Well, whoever the brat's publicist is, he's done a damn good job keeping the vultures off of this."

"Clearly," replied Oshitari with an amused smirk, "Just not _quite_ good enough."

"I wouldn't say so. You had to rely on others for information for this one."

The blue haired teen looked mildly affronted. "Only for confirming what I had."

Atobe ignored him, already bored with the conversation. "Aoiyama, Gorou, and Kazuya…" he murmured. "Knowing how hotheaded the people at Seishun are, I'm surprised they haven't been lynched yet."

"Fuji's there," said Oshitari with a shrug, as if it explained the entire thing. Which it actually did, sadly.

"Was he your "source inside the school," then? Think he planned this?" asked Atobe with a smirk, knowing that bringing down not one but several teams' wrath on the three teens whose pictures stared at him was the kind of thing Fuji would take pleasure in.

"If he did, which is likely," Oshitari responded, pushing his glasses up, "I think we can expect a few more schools getting involved before this is over."

"Aa."

There was a moment of silence.

"Atobe."

"What?"

"How exactly did you learn how to read lips?"

The diva stiffened for a millisecond before his eyes took on a haunted look. "An unfortunate incident several years ago involving the London Eye, a hot tub, twelve strawberries, and several metric tons of cotton balls."

"I… beg your pardon?"

**~Owari~**


	29. Doctor's Orders

**IT'S… ALIIIIIIIIIIIIVE! *Ahem* Almost a year what? Yes, hello all my lovelies who somehow know this story still exists, I am indeed back. I know a lot of you thought this was discontinued, but I refuse to be that guy. No matter how slow, I will **_**always**_** slog on back to wrap this story up.**

**XD Eeee~veryone wants to know what Atobe did. Use your no doubt impressive imaginations; that's what makes the thing funny.**

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><p>Here We Go Again<p>

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Doctor's Orders

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><p>"I honestly can't explain this. Frankly, it's impossible."<p>

"Clearly it isn't," piped up a hoarse voice from the corner.

Dr. Murasaki had had an extremely long day. He was definitely not in the mood for this. "Young man, you will stay silent. Just because you _can _speak now does not mean you _should_. We don't know the state of your vocal chords yet, and you could well be making it worse."

"I'm fine!"

Fuji laughed quietly, giving the huffy boy a sideways glance before turning back to his book.

"Echizen-san, the damage in your throat was very serious, and regardless of how you're feeling at the moment, it could still worsen." The man rubbed his temples as he spoke, giving a long-suffering sigh. When he had last seen Ryoma, the boy had been slightly in shock, mute, and subdued. Now that the young star had regained his voice and his confidence, Dr. Murasaki was finding that all the rumors as to his personality were true.

"You should listen to him, Ryoma. He knows what's best for you and you've been pushing it too much lately." Looking over his book once more, Fuji smiled blithely at his boyfriend's withering glare.

Ryoma gave a disgusted scoff, crossing his arms but staying silent all the same.

"Ah, thank you, Fuji-san. Now, Echizen-san, please come with me. We need to examine your throat more thoroughly." The doctor began to walk away, gesturing down a long hallway lined with doors.

With an exaggerated grimace, the boy followed. Fuji watched his retreating back with a smile, suspecting that regardless of the doctor's verdict, Ryoma would be verbally abusing him as quickly as humanly possible. He had several weeks of silence to make up for, after all.

Once more, Fuji turned his attention to his book. He had noticed some interesting symbols on one of his cactus pots and was researching them now in a book about the American southwest. He wasn't finding anything promising, but at the very least it was a way to pass the time. So he settled down for the wait, immersing himself in old stories and folktales. He didn't notice the minutes going by until he felt a hand whack him over the head.

"-ji? Fuji! Wake the hell up!"

The brunet fluttered his eyes as if waking up from a trance, which he was, in a way. As he looked up, he was met with the sight of a face almost identical to Ryoma's staring at him irately. "Ah, Ryoga-san, you're back."

"Yeah," the older man drawled. "Got all the boring paperwork and stuff done. Now when Chibisuke gets the all-clear, we just have to sign him out and we'll be good."

Fuji nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks for telling me... I was surprised, though. How long do you think he's been hiding that?"

Ryoga snorted. "I was just thinking about that. Knowing Chibisuke, he could've been saving that surprise for ages, just so he could pull it out when he could make a huge scene. It can't have been _too_ long, though. Despite all the evidence that there's some weird superhuman genes in him, the kid's only human."

"That's true," replied Fuji with a fond smile. "Ah. Speak of the devil and he will appear."

Ryoga turned, seeing the teenager's gaze shift to a point behind his shoulder. "Yo! Chibisuke, you're back! Not dying or anything, right?"

The newly arrived freshman gave his brother a blank stare, with a little disgust thrown in for good measure. Then he moved on to Fuji. Drawing back and putting in as much of his considerable arm strength as he could, Ryoma punched the brunet soundly on the shoulder.

Hiding his wince with a mildly sarcastic smile, Fuji put a hand to his chest. "You wound me, Ryo-chan," he said theatrically.

"_You_ sold me out," the boy retorted venomously.

"I hardly consider speaking my opinion selling you out." He tilted his head, grinning childishly.

Before the caustic remark forming on Ryoma's lips could make its way into existence, Dr. Murasaki stepped in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm going to have to ask you not to provoke Echizen-san anymore. And that goes for you too, young man," he said, sending a sharp glance over his shoulder at the short teen. "You're a little too willing to start arguments. I've already told you that it isn't good for your voice to speak so much."

_That_ drew Fuji's interest. "Does that mean he isn't completely recovered, then?"

The doctor sighed. "There's room for improvement, definitely, but we're not sure how much better he'll get. The way things are looking, he might not make a full recovery, but he'll get very close. So," he continued, turning once again to Ryoma, "unless you want your voice to fail you on and off for the rest of your life, you need to actually do what I say for once."

The boy huffed and crossed his arms, but didn't protest. Apparently even he could appreciate the consequences if he didn't listen.

"Thank you. Now, I'm giving you this prescription," Dr. Murasaki handed Ryoma a slip of paper, which the boy absentmindedly handed off to his brother. "You need to take one pill after dinner every night for two weeks, which is when your checkup with me will be. Also, try to speak as little as you can until then."

A pained grimace crossed Ryoma's features. "But I-"

"Am not fine and am going to listen to you, so thank you very much, sir," interjected Ryoga, swinging an arm around his little brother's neck. "Don't worry doc, I'll keep him in line!" He slapped Dr. Murasaki on the shoulder with a massive smile on his face, much to the older man's chagrin.

"Thank you very much, Sensei," said Fuji with a slight bow. "We'll see you in two weeks."

The three tennis players departed, leaving a mildly shell-shocked doctor in their wake. The poor receptionist wasn't much better off once she noticed exactly who was signing out, but Ryoga made sure they were gone before she could say "Isn't that-!"

As soon as they were in the car, the tirade began. Ryoma had a lot to rant about, and he immediately began his onslaught covering everything he hadn't been able to say for the past several weeks. He was on week three, when Fuji had dragged him to the roof by the collar at lunch in full view of most of the student body, when he was cut off.

Fuji leaned over and kissed him quickly to stop the flow of insults. "Surely you didn't mind it that much? Half of the situations you could've gotten out of if you had really wanted to." While Ryoma's eye was still twitching in irritation, the brunet swept in again and kissed him, deeper this time.

"Fuji-hands-off-or-so-help-me-I-will-pull-this-car -over-and-make-you-_walk!_" yelled Ryoga in one breath.

"Hai, sensei," replied the teen innocently, sitting back again.

Ryoma seemed to burn out for the time being, and simply shook his head at Fuji with a disgusted yet resigned sigh. He stared out the window at the passing buildings and stretches of river that made up the familiar way to Kawamura's. He saw the bright sign of one of his favorite equipment stores flash by, and idly wondered about a new racquet he'd wanted to demo.

"It all feels somehow back to normal, doesn't it?"

Ryoma turned to see Fuji, smiling blankly out the windshield with his eyes open and bright. There were tiny hints – the vacant pleasure in his eyes, the slight loss of tension around the tips of his smile – that gave away his genuine relief.

A smile reluctantly formed on Ryoma's lips as well. "You're saying weird things again, Fuji-senpai," he teased lightly.

"Is that so?" The brunet's smile widened as he turned his eyes to the boy next to him.

"Yes, yes, yes, we're all very much in love! Now please for the love of god shut up."

"Someone's not in the best mood today, huh Ryoga-san?" said Fuji with a Cheshire cat grin.

"The walking offer still stands you know."

Ryoma and Fuji snickered, and even Ryoga smirked to himself. The rest of the short car ride was silent, but in an easy, comfortable way.

When they finally arrived at Kawamura's, it was clear that the celebration was already in full swing. Voices, shouting and laughing without care, could be heard easily from the street. A "burning" from Kawamura and at least one "nya" from Kikumaru stood out in particular.

Ryoma smirked at the sound of Kevin yelling obnoxiously at someone and stepped through the doorway. A hand rested lightly on his arm as he stepped through, and he turned to see Ryoga and Fuji hanging back.

"I want to talk to Fuji for a second, so go on ahead Chibisuke," said Ryoga as he retracted his arm.

A skeptical eyebrow was raised.

Fuji smiled and nodded encouragingly. "It's fine, Ryoma. We'll be right in."

Shrugging at the strange behavior, Ryoma turned back around to join his less secretive friends.

Fuji kept his smile up until Ryoma was out of view. He then faced the elder Echizen with open eyes and a serious, contemplative face. "Walk and talk?" he asked.

Nodding in agreement, Ryoga started moving in the direction of the river.

"So? Am I finally getting the 'you-break-his-heart-I-break-your-face' talk?"

There was a short pause before Ryoga responded. "Nah, not really. Okay yeah well kind of, but I think you're smart enough to already know that. It's just… I don't know. Before… you know, all that crap that happened, it didn't really hit me how serious you guys are, and I didn't really realize how much of a kid Ryoma is…"

The man seemed to be having trouble putting his thoughts together, especially with his usual devil-may-care tendencies leaving him oblivious to all things emotional. That and the seriousness of the conversation made Fuji believe that perhaps this wasn't the best time to make a joke about how he didn't think he'd ever heard Ryoga use his brother's actual name before.

"You shouldn't have such little faith in Ryoma just because of what happened," the brunet said quietly, staring at the pavement moving beneath his feet.

Ryoga sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Guess so. I know the kid isn't stupid. And he can definitely take care of himself on the rare occasions when he's not insulting anyone and everyone around him."

"I wasn't aware that kind of occasion existed."

Throwing back his head and laughing, Ryoga let his shoulders finally relax into their usual lazy slouch. "They're rare. Very, very rare."

And that was that. Tension diffused, crisis averted. Fuji's eyes slid closed again. "So would I be right to assume that you're just worried?"

Ryoga snorted. "Don't know if you've noticed, but Chibisuke's not the type that likes to be worried over. But yeah, I guess so. I want to… protect him. And I get to break your face if you tell anyone that. I'm also just going to go ahead and reserve my overprotective big brother rights for the future."

Fuji laughed softly. "I'm sure Ryoma will be thrilled."

"Oh yeah. Ecstatic."

"Anything else I should be looking out for?" Fuji teased.

"Uh… yeah. I might flip shit if you don't take care of him. And don't expect me to get off your case any time soon. I think that's it though."

Fuji honestly didn't know if Ryoga was serious or not at this point. "You don't have to worry." Without another word, Fuji smiled and turned back the way they came. Ryoga chose to translate that as Fuji-speak for a clap on the shoulder and a gruff "good talk."

Ryoga laughed as he looked at Fuji's back and followed. "Well, you sure can pick 'em, huh Chibisuke?" They walked back like that, Ryoga trailing silently behind Fuji, until Kawamura's was in their sight again. The yells coming from inside had gotten louder, and the pair stopped for a moment to stare. "… You know, I'm almost afraid to go in. I feel like there'll be nothing left."

"Hm… True, but that's how it feels every time, ne?"

Ryoga let out a bark of laughter, nodded, and walked in. Luckily, the interior of the shop was still standing, despite the team probably putting in its best effort to destroy their surroundings. He spotted his brother sitting next to Kevin in the corner and headed over, dodging a plate of sushi that Kawamura had thrown like a Frisbee to Kikumaru.

He plopped down next to Ryoma, reaching over to take a piece of sushi off the boy's plate. Ryoma smacked his hand without looking up. "So since when could Kawamura do that throwing thing with the plates?" he asked, taking some of his brother's food anyways.

"Why you asking us? Of all the people here, we've been around the least," replied Kevin around a mouth of rice.

"Point. But I figured-" he cut off at the sound of a large crash disturbingly near his head.

"Oi! Watch it!" Ryoma yelled across the room, earning him a swift rap on the head from Ryoga.

"Voice."

"But-"

"_Voice_. And Momo, if I see you throw another plate you'll be out of the next match, even if it is against Rikkai."

"Eh? But the bastard viper started it, coach!" Momo yelled back, looking completely unrepentant. "And you need me!"

"I don't care who started it, even though it was probably just as much you as him; we just got Chibisuke here back in working order and you just almost took him out with a wasabi to the face. We have Kevin. You are expendable."

Though he was trying to keep his face dead serious, there was a gleam of mischief in Ryoga's eyes that made his threats clearly empty.

Ignoring Momo's cries of dismay and Kaidoh's resulting jeers, Ryoma turned to his friend. "Now that he mentions it, how come you aren't on the team?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, that. I don't know it was kind of just a whim. I was still settling in and everything and I just didn't feel like it. I don't know if you know this, but all you guys have this weird dynamic going on, and that's hard to break into." Kevin shrugged. "Not like I quit, though. I've been playing street tennis and I might join a club team later."

Ryoma snorted. "That's stupid. Just join the school team already, you'd be a regular in no time."

"Playing in what spot? You've got all the people you need."

"We had an extra player in middle school."

"Are you _trying_ to get me to steal your place in the lineup?"

"Are you saying you don't want to?"

Kevin burst into laughter and slapped his friend on the back. "Ha! Okay you're on. I'm coming for your spot, man."

"Like you could ever top me."

"Lord knows he makes topping him difficult," interjected Fuji mildly.

While Kevin jolted, not knowing that his upperclassman had even been listening, Fuji began counting the shades of red Ryoma's face was turning.

"Fuji-senpai," growled the boy through gritted teeth, "there are some places that you _just don't go_."

"Ara? I don't know what you mean. Where is your mind going, Ryo-chan?"

"Playing dumb does. Not. Suit. You."

"Hey, kid," interrupted Ryoga. "I just finished tearing our lovable second-year duo over there a new one, and I don't want to spend the whole night yelling at people." The man bonked Ryoma on the top of his head again. "Stop talking so much."

"But-"

"Hey Inui, I want you to get Ryoma a shot of Penal-T for every time he starts talking unnecessarily."

"With pleasure, Coach." Inui appeared at Ryoma's shoulder, tapping his notebook with a pencil and smiling with sadistic glee. The boy choked and flinched away.

"Che."

~X~

Fuji was pretty content right now. The match had gone well, Kawamura had given him three new types of wasabi sushi to sample, and after several hours at the restaurant, Ryoma had fallen asleep by his side. Never one to miss an opportunity, Fuji had drawn him to his side and was idly playing with the dark green hair that his boyfriend almost never let him touch. On top of everything else, they were finally going to discuss some pressing matters.

"So," said Momo loudly, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to kick some ass."

Oishi raised his hands, trying to calm the trickster down. "Maa, maa, calm down. This could lead to some serious trouble for all of us."

"So we just don't get caught, right?" drawled Kevin from the corner. "I mean come on, even _you _have to admit that was some majorly screwed up shit they tried to pull, Oishi-senpai."

"I'm not saying you're wrong, but maybe they never meant to go that far. And none of you are looking at the consequences! Wecould get expelled! Or even kicked off the team!"

"I'm sorry, but which exactly do you think is worse?" interjected Ryoga. "Because I'm not sure you have your priorities straight."

Most of the team shot him disparaging looks.

"Right. Give me tennis or give me death. Shutting up now. Oh, and I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear this entire conversation. Good school employees don't condone violence." With that, their coach leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

"Didn't he punch someone too when we found Echizen…?" mumbled Momo to no one in particular.

"Well, either way…" Fuji looked up with his sweetest smile. "I've contacted some people that would give us some help should we ask for it."

Kikumaru leaned over to Momo, whispering conspiratorially in his ear. "Betcha Fujiko's secretly a spy. He's got a network of contacts all over the country - guarantee it."

"When did we decide we were going to do something in the first place?" protested Oishi in a weak voice, already sounding defeated.

"Tezuka?" asked Fuji.

In response, the captain looked at all his teammates, including the dozing freshman. After a moment of deliberation, he nodded slowly.

"I think that means we just decided." Fuji stood with a cheery, idyllic smile. "Operation: Vengeance is underway."

* * *

><p><strong>Anyone else see the most recent chapters of the ShinTeni manga? Just… I don't even… I can't handle this. Three on one doubles matches, Kin-chan set the net on fire, Ryoga's Naruto, I just… Oh my god. This is worse than any fanfic could come up with. I suddenly feel so justified in all that I've written, even chapter fourteen. It will never be more absurd than the canon.<strong>

**Now, (YAYYY shameless self-promotion!) I posted a PoT one-shot a while back that will eventually be converted into a story. It's fantasy, and has thieves. Go forth and read. **


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